


Into The Eternal Darkness

by The_Two_Monkeys



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Apocalypse, Death is sarcastic as ever, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Human saves Mankind, Literary References & Allusions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:12:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Two_Monkeys/pseuds/The_Two_Monkeys
Summary: There can be no life without order. Good, evil, darkness, light - there must be balance in the universe.But the balance has been broken.Some say the horseman War triggered the apocalypse, that he rode to Earth, unbidden, and doomed all of mankind.Now he lies chained at the Charred Council's feet, professing his innocence.But who will save the Third Kingdom... and bring the truth to light?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you are not familiar with the complete story of Darksiders and Darksiders II, I highly suggest you to play the video games before you continue reading.  
> The series is incredibly good and worth all the attention!

_**Since the dawn of time, the armies of Heaven and Hell have waged an endless war.** _

_**Drawn to the conflict was the Charred Council, an entity bound by ancient laws to preserve order and balance. It held that any great power, unchecked, threatened the very fabric of the universe.** _  
_**In time, Heaven and Hell came to honour the Council and its laws, for none were beyond the swift and terrible justice of the Council's enforcers - a fearsome brotherhood known as the Four Horsemen.** _  
_**Amid the turmoil, the first humans emerged.** _  
_**The Council foretold that these weak, but cunning creatures would someday be integral to the balance. Thus a third kingdom was named - the Kingdom of Man. By order of the Council, a truce was forged between Heaven and Hell. The great pact was bound by Seven Seals, to be broken at the appointed time - when Man's kingdom stood ready for the Endwar - a battle that would bring balance, and determine the ultimate fate of the three kingdoms.** _

_**But the Third Kingdom was betrayed.** _

__

* * *

Phoebe woke up to the unnerving sound of her alarm.

With her legs tangled in the cozy warmth of a blanket, she wasn't ready to leave the comfort of her bed yet. The edges of a dream leaked out of her half-concious mind, but soon slipped away with her awakening. Thinking of her job as a waitress in a totally overrated café only made her snuggle deeper into the pillow, as if it somehow would swallow her whole. Squinting her eyes closed, she tried to turn the wretched thing off, but no matter how hard she hit it with the palm of her right hand, it wouldn't stop its wailing tone. She groaned and turned around, her sight still a little blurred from sleep, but the noise only became louder.  
A deep frown appeared on her forehead when she noticed, that the alarm wasn't even set - it was sunday.  
Kicking out of her bed sheets, she yawned and stumbled towards the window to open the curtains. The harsh light blinded her, temporarily burning into her retina in a bizarre cluster of abstract patterns, and she had to screen her eyes with one hand. She blinked a few times to clear her vision, but what she saw outside the apartment complex where she lived made her intestines turn.

 _Fire_. There was fire everywhere.

Thick, black smoke rose up to large towers, and she couldn't tell where it originally came from. The usually busy street was stuck with cars and an uncountable amount of people, running around and screaming in panic. For a few seconds Phoebe stood frozen to the ground, unable to move. She just stared at the blazing inferno in front of her, the sound of the sirens only a muffled echo.  
Something inside of her suddenly snapped. It was an old, involuntary instinct that awoke with the primal urge to survive, to get out of this hellish maze.  
She barely managed to put on some jeans and sneakers, leaving on the sweatshirt she wore for sleeping, and hasted out of her small flat. She didn't care to take any of her few possessions with her, not her phone, not her keys, not even the picture of her parents.

Phoebe just _ran_.

She could already smell the flames in the neglected hallway, making her way right to the emergency staircase. Obviously most of the other residents had already left their home, and the spooky silence only made her heartbeat rise. There was no point in trying to reach the already unreliable elevators, since they had been very likely shut down, so she pushed the heavy door open and finally stood outside.  
It was even worse from here. Her eyes began to water and she had to cough heavily, but she hurried to climb down the rusty metal stairs as fast as she could. The noise was nearly unbearable, a weird cacophony of pain that wavered through the street canyons, like a drill next to her ears.  
While her feet were busy not to stumble, her mind raced to find an explanation for this chaos: was it a terrorist attack, like 9/11? Or maybe a meteorite impact? But she wasn't able to get any clear thoughts, naked fear was controlling every bit of her.

The buzzing of a helicopter came up between the sounds of alarm systems, crashing metal and screams, but when she tried to look up, the sky was only cast with dark, fiery clouds. Phoebe took the last steps with a few jumps and looked around, the signs of destruction evident around her. The city she used to know was gone, cars were crushed like toys against the already collapsing walls of the buildings, the concrete split with deep ruptures, and bodies lying lifeless on the ground. A terror beyond anything she had ever felt in her life took her in its icy grip, and sweat built up on her forehead.  
Whatever was going on here would soon kill her too, and again her body took the lead and let her brain just do the necessary things.

She didn't mind the direction, just _out, out, out,_ find somewhere safe. There were explosions in the distance, and the vibrations made her teeth clatter. More than once she stumbled and grazed her knees and hands, but the pain hardly reached her. When she turned around the corner of another large skyscraper, she suddenly halted in her tracks, and her eyes widened. What appeared right in front of her was too horrible, too shocking to be real.  
_Something_ was creeping between the car wrecks and the demolished buildings.  
It wasn't anything Phoebe had ever seen before, not even in her wildest dreams. There were massive creatures lurking in the shadows, muscular limbs with terrible fangs and huge talons, their skin wet with the blood of their victims. Their snarls mixed with the screams of humans trying to escape this melting pot of abominations, but they were _everywhere_. Were these aliens?

They jumped at a group of people and tore their flesh apart with wild resolution. Nobody near them was able to flee, some just gaped at the sight, unable to process what happened before they died.  
Phoebe trembled, but her feet remained stuck to the ground as she watched one of the beasts prowling towards her. Deep red spittle drooled from its jaws, and with a sinister growl it tensed its legs to jump. Digging her fingernails into her hands, she stood immobile and waited for the inevitable blow - but it never came.  
In one fast motion a blur of gold and white came between her and the monster, and the next thing she saw was its ugly, disjointed head rolling on the street.

She exhaled a shaky breath and looked up to her savior, gulping at the sight.  
_An Angel_ , was the first thing that came to her mind. It was an almost human looking male with feathered wings on his back, his whole body covered in heavy armor. He was huge, at least eight feet tall, and his face was hidden behind a helmet. And he didn't look like the divine, soft beings displayed in churches - he was grim and militant. A slimey green substance was dripping from the edge of what seemed to be an oversized sword, and he floated just above the ground. He was watching her with strangely gleaming eyes, an almost curious expression on the steely visage probably mirroring her own.  
Before she could inspect him any further or even thank him, he turned around to deal with the increasing amount of monsters that were attracted by his attack.

Phoebe knew there would be no second chance.

With greater effort than she thought she was capable of, she made her way through the havoc, fleeing the hungry maws of the demons and avoiding the strikes of other angels. Women, men and children were killed next to her, their desperate cries filling the air. Some tried to shoot the bloodthirsty critters with their guns, but even the heavily armed police couldn't stop them, and was soon overrun.  
It slowly dawned Phoebe that this wasn't anything like a natural disaster or man-made war.  
Every corner she could reach only held more creatures crawling out of the rifts in the streets, taking the fire of hell with them. There were others, even bigger ones with tails and horns and bat-like wings, and her only benefit was that they were too big and slow to catch her in time.  
The heat became unbearable, and her sight was heavily affected by the smoke and the strong sulphur smell. Soon, her legs went tired, and she had to stop behind the wreck of a bus on a crossroad before nausea washed over her exhausted body. Resting her back on the useless vehicle, she slowly slid to the ground. Her ears rang, her throat burnt and her eyes stung, she was shaking with exhaustion and fear. She took the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her face, and with a certain surprise she noticed, that it was wet and dirty. Whether tears or sweat mingled with the soot on her skin, she couldn't tell.

A bleak feeling of despair and hopelessness settled inside of her, and she hugged herself to keep her from falling apart.  
Why did this happen? Was this supposed to be the end? Who had decided that earth would be destroyed by some ugly monsters? How was that even possible?  
All the families, couples and friends she had seen lost their beloved ones, but she would die alone, nobody cared about her. To some point she was grateful that her parents didn't have to go through this cataclysm, she already knew the pain when they had passed away years ago. It had been cancer, the most traitorous of all diseases, when your own body was betraying you. But now, sitting on the edge of armageddon, the wound that had never quite healed in her heart was raw as it had been when the doctors told her that there was no cure.

Yes, she had experienced more loss in her 19 year old life than she had ever thought possible. Since her grandparents were gone too, she had been passed from one foster family to another, until she had finally moved out to the big city. She had dreamed of starting a new life, meeting new people, maybe finding love, just leaving the mess behind. Still, the world wouldn't show any mercy, and surviving wasn't possible without money. So she had worked hard and hoped, that one day everything would be better for her.  
But now all her prospects and expectations were burnt to dust.  
And with the sorrow came the anger. Hot and inexorably it devoured her wounded heart, soaking up the very last bit of energy that she held inside of her.  
No, this wasn't _fair_!

Phoebe managed to stand up, her knees still a little wobbly, and she swallowed down the sobs that built up in her chest.  
Suddenly, the ground started to shake, forcing her back, and the earth split up just a few yards away from her. The street crumbled into an endless abyss, taking everything in reach with it. Strange glowing thorns rose from the hole filled with boiling lava, and on the rim stood an angel even more impressive than his fellows she had seen before.  
His wings stretched out between the remains of former buildings, and he held a sword as large as a street light. Instead of metal armor he wore a blue robe that stood in stark contrast to his snow-white, long hair. He slowly turned around, watching the battle to his feet, not stepping in as the soldiers were ripped apart by the superior infernal demons. She spotted a large patch on his right eye, giving him an even fiercer appearance.

Between the dust, with measured heavy steps, a large figure appeared on the former crossing, even sturdier than the angel warriors.  
A crimson red hood hid the face of the human-like creature that carried a coarse sword on its back. Some strange energy emanated from the male, and he didn't mind the surrounding clash. Single-minded and persistent he stepped up to the great angel, and when he rose his head to look at him, Phoebe saw his glimmering blue eyes and gasped.  
The angel scowled deeply at the sight, and she almost missed his whispered: " _Impossible_..."  
"Abaddon. What is this? Where are my brothers?" the red clad stranger growled, and Phoebe felt gooseflesh stipple her skin.  
"This cannot be! The... final Seal..." But before the winged leader could finish his sentence, a huge flying demon attacked his side and sunk its canines deep into his flesh. He roared in agony and tried to fight the enemy, but the bite was powerful and soon his arm was soaked with blood.  
" _My Lord_!" a female voice from above yelled, and Phoebe could only stare at a more delicate angel who cut off the demons head with an angry strike of her weapon.

Suddenly, the stranger, not demon nor angel, bent on his knees, a low cry leaving his mouth. "The Seventh Seal was _not_ broken!"  
Something in the back of Phoebes mind rang with those words, dimly remembering the bible she used to read as a child. _Seventh Seal_?! So... was this the _apocalypse_?  
But before she could wrap her thoughts further around it, a massive stone hand rose from the molten lava, and with an awful crackle the one-eyed angel was crushed between the colossal fingers.  
She covered her mouth with her hands to prevent herself from screaming when a demon as tall as a building emerged out of the steaming pot, a terrible blare shaking the ground.

"What in Heaven's name have you _done_?!" the female angel hissed at the still crouched warrior.  
Between gritted teeth he said: "I answer the _call_."  
And with that the giant monster focused its attention to him, fire spitting from its mouth and eyes.  
Phoebe felt the heat on her face even so far away, but the red one didn't seem too impressed and came back to his feet. Languidly, he drew the sword from his back, and with a smooth move she hadn't expected from him, he attacked the gigantic foe. He fought with much skill and soon found a good strategy to hit the enemy with car wrecks and aimed blows of his sword. He even managed to stab one cruel eye, and the beast cried in anguish.

For now, Phoebe was relatively safe behind the bus, for no demon or angel dared to come too close to the savagely flailing giant that smacked the invaders away like flies. Finally, the red warrior braced himself to hit the monsters head, but in his elegant turn in the air, he suddenly collapsed again, as if deprived of his power.  
Then a new, haunting sound filled the empty streets, and Phoebe shivered when she realized that the monster _laughed_.  
With the fling of its hand it hit the weak enemy who was tossed across the street, right next to her hiding place. For one terrible moment she thought he was finished, but then she saw his broad chest rise under the armor, he slowly came back to his feet and said: "The law… has been broken…"  
Before he could move again, the violent hand reached out and grabbed him, bringing him right in front its hideous face: "And so have you, Horseman."  
And with that, he disappeared into the grip of the demon.

" _No_ ," Phoebe whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks when she realized that this meant ultimate surrender.  
If neither angels nor other warriors would be able to fight the demons, then humans couldn't stand a chance.

They were _doomed_.

There was no good reason for her to stay or question what she had seen so far. It was beyond everything she had ever imagined, and she might as well have gone mad.  
At first she wasn't able to move, the burden of her fate pushing down on her. Hesitantly, she came to her feet, her shoulders dropped and her head hanging. Going into trance she stepped between the remains of the now lost city, only half-heartedly recognizing her surroundings. She was tired. She wanted to sleep. If this was the end, so be it.  
The other creatures were too busy to notice the lonesome girl trotting into the entrance hall of a former bank, not knowing where to go or what to do.

A light ringing sound cut through the dull noise of war, and Phoebe looked up to find a strange wind chime hanging from the ceiling. How odd, she thought, that somebody had installed them in this building.  
She followed the slightly swinging ribbons, already feeling the leaden weight of exhaustion creeping into her bones. With hooded eyes she made out an eery blue light waving from the corner of an office.  
Stepping closer she saw a glowing circle on the ground, unfamiliar signs turning around it, and she couldn't help but being attracted by the soothing illumination. Maybe this was a proper place to die.  
She knelt down and carefully reached out to touch it, when she suddenly felt a pulling at her hand.

Frowning, she withdrew it and held it to her chest, now highly alarmed with the very last will of survive.  
Outside, the roaring of further demons swelled, and soon they would find her, being an easy target. So Phoebe tried to touch it again, and with every inch closing the distance between her and the blue circle, she felt it pulling at her, until her hand magically disappeared into the floor. She swallowed thickly, turning her head to look at the entrance of the bank, where the creatures were already destroying the furniture.

Whatever awaited her on the other side couldn't be worse than this, she thought, and with a deep intake of breath she dived headfirst into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, so I wrote this fic because I'm totally in love with the video games.  
> I'm sticking mostly to the canon of the story, I just made a few adaptions to leave out the video game elements. And I'm giving Mankind a more important role in the whole plot!  
> There will be a lot of canon dialogue as well, so I'm quoting pretty much the whole series and also works that are related to the subject.  
> I hope you'll like it and it adds a little more dimension to our beloved DS universe.


	2. Chapter 2

**_There can be no life without order. Good, evil, darkness, light - there must be balance in the universe._ **  
**_But the balance has been broken._ **

**_Even now, Earth smolders in ruin, fallen to the Demon Lords, and the Destroyer carves a new kingdom amongst his mighty Chosen._ **  
**_Some say the Horseman War triggered the apocalypse, that he rode to Earth, unbidden, and doomed all of mankind. Now he lies chained at the Charred Council's feet, professing his innocence._ **

**_But what about the one who would save his brother above all else?_ **  
**_He has many names - Kinslayer, Executioner..._ **  
**_Death._ **

**_To bargain for War's freedom, Death swore that he would resurrect humanity._ **

* * *

The deep, etching feeling of abysmal wrath was unfamiliar to Death.

He, the oldest brother, was maybe the most deliberate Horseman amongst his brethren. The others - War, Fury and Strife - were infamous for their unbridled rage, but not _him_. Being one of the Firstborn, he had learned to keep his feelings on a tight leash, knowing that they were powerful but also made him vulnerable.  
And now that his brother War was punished by the Charred Council for a crime he had not committed, the Grim Reaper could scarcely handle his temper.  
_Nobody_ dared to judge a Nephilim, a kin that existed long before the Three Kingdoms were born. However, it was an unwritten law that the Council was in charge of keeping the balance, and now a culprit had been found for the unspeakable felony.  
But Death knew better than that.

His brother was maybe reckless and hotheaded, but never had he risked the delicate equilibrium that prevailed in the universe. It was a conspiracy, he had no doubt about it, but speaking up against the supreme body would have grave consequences. Nevertheless War had been there, he had been seen by the angels of the White City who evidently sought to avenge the death of their leader Abaddon. That seemed proof enough for the Council to keep him imprisoned, for the Kingdom of Man was now truly and irretrievably lost.

As far as _they_ knew.

So it was Death who set out to rescue his brother, to search for a solution to restore mankind and free War from his prison. Never would he admit that it was more than just revenge he strove for - he was responsible for the last of his kin, and he would not have one of them shackled by a corrupt entity. Truth be told, he didn’t care too much about the mortals, they were only a means to an end. But their existence was crucial for his plans, and he had to find a way to bring them back.  
Although he did not know how, his will was strong and unyielding, so he left his lonely realm of the dead and made his way to the one who held all the knowledge he needed.  
He neither knew nor care how long he had not seen the Crowfather after their last unfortunate meeting when they had made a pact. A pact that Death hoped would settle his debts, but his past still haunted him, and now he had to face it once again.

Driven by his anger he spurred his mighty steed Despair on, and together they flew across the bleak landscape of the Icy Veil, guided by Dust, the foreseeing crow. He had been given to him after his treaty with the Old One, and ever since he’s been what Death most likely would call a friend, aside from his horse.  
The Reaper wasn’t very likely to find acquaintances, and he was content with that. Even his brothers and sister were sometimes difficult to endure, let alone any other creature he could think of. Thus he scraped a living amidst his two compagnions, for solitude sometimes is best society¹.

Nothing but dirty snow and ice covered the black mountains in this frigid world, the sun hidden behind an overcast sky.  
However, the cold did not bother him, and soon he was standing in front of the ruins of the Dark Fortress that forced him to send Despair away and make his way up alone. Skillfully he found every ridge between the torn walls, swinging from one broken beam on the ceiling to another. The abandoned halls still held ice skeletons that tried to attack him, but he cut their pathetic attempts short with a flick of his scythes.  
He could hear the manic whispers of the Crowfather mixing with the hauling of the wind echoing between the frozen towers. This would be _far_ from a pleasant reunion. Clenching his jaw he continued climbing upwards, seeking the highest point where the throne hall was. Flying ahead, Dust led his master through the icy maze, drawn by the presence of the Old One.

Crossing several abysses where once bridges and stairs had connected the different wings of the castle, Death quickly reached the roof, where a massive throne of rocks embraced the weak figure of the Crowfather.  
"Voices... always voices... torment without end...," he murmured, trying to block his ears with his arthritic hands. He seemed to be wholly unaware of his visitor, his eyes remaining tightly shut.  
Dust gracefully landed beside him, watching him with mild interest. Or _hunger_.

"Keeper of secrets," Death addressed him, and he flinched as if hearing an actual voice was beyond his mind, "I need your help."  
The low thumping of his boots resounded throughout the empty residence when he walked up the steps to meet the bald sorcerer. He had grown older and more miserable, if that was even possible, his sunken cheeks holding an unkempt beard, and his malicious eyes overshadowed by huge brows.  
With a hateful glance he pointed one scrawny finger on the intruder and hissed: "I helped you once before, Horseman! Look at me now!" And with every movement the heavy chains on his arms rattled, witnessing his ordeal. The Reaper only let his gaze chastely flicker over the green amulet that hung around his neck, weighing it down with great force.  
"How I curse that day. How I curse _you_."

Death narrowed his eyes. He knew, he wasn’t welcome, but he wouldn’t tolerate the old coot to insult him.  
He raised a warning hand, his voice low when he spoke: "Careful, Crowfather. I’m not here to put you out of your misery. Not yet..."  
The Old One pushed himself up, his hunched figure threateningly lurching forward.  
"I know why you have come: your brother, the one called _War_. He’s been imprisoned by the Charred Council and awaits their judgement. For dooming the Earth, for Mankind’s extinction."  
Baring his yellow teeth, he seemed utterly delighted by the thought, and Death balled his fists. Not even the freezing cold of the Veil was able to cool the rising heat of anger in his guts.

"Why should _I_ care about your brother’s fate?" the Keeper of secrets snarled, turning his back to the Horseman.

"Because you know the _truth_. Your secrets can save him."  
The Nephilim tried his best to sound reasonable, but the Crowfather only cackled, the black feathers around his shoulders shaking violently. Diplomacy had never been one of his strengths.  
"The Council will condemn War! Strip him of power, let him _rot_ in Oblivion... to hide the truth. _My_ secrets cannot prove his innocence, Horseman."  
With every word Death stalked further up the stairs, bracing himself for what he thought was now inevitable.  
"No, but they can help me to _erase_ the crime!" he argued.

Blinking with confusion the Crowfather eyed him as if he had finally lost his senses, gesturing wildly with his gnarled arms: "Bring Mankind back from extinction? _Madness_!"  
Death took the last few steps and stood now eye to eye with the Old One, his mouth curling behind his mask.  
"If it’s madness, then who better to show me the way?" he mocked, planting a hand on his hip. It seemed that the hermit turly had lost what was left of his mind.  
Reluctantly, the Crowfather waved his fingers, and a shimmering portal appeared in front of him. "Should a way exist, you will find it _here_."

In the distance of a rich green valley, a large tree was shown in the depths of the vortex, and the glowing eyes of the Reaper were stuck to the picture.  
" _The Tree of Life_..." Death whispered reverently, and slowly tumbled forward, reaching out for the solution to all of his troubles.  
But before he could touch the surface, the portal disappeared, and the Crowfather watched him with his lips pressed into a thin line.  
"Let me pass!" the Horseman demanded, growing impatient.  
With a dismissive gesture the Old One replied: "Not yet! That which you gave me...," he fumbled with the amulet around his neck, "you will take it back."

Green light emanating from the charm wafted down his hand, and even from the distance Death could hear the voices of his lost brethren rustling, begging to be freed. Standing perfectly still, he tried to stay composed at the sight, but his jaw was clenched tight and every single muscle in his body was tensed. No, he would not allow the feeling of guilt getting the best of him now.  
He forced himself to lift his eyes upon the Crowfather, who expectantly held out the amulet to him.  
"In exchange for its secrets, you agreed to keep the amulet," he only answered, not wanting to give in.  
The wrinkled eye sockets of the Old One squinted with pain, hitting his skull in a desperate manner when he yelled: "No... The voices, they curse and threaten without end. They cry to return. You _must_ destroy it!"  
And with a sigh that was highly uncharacteristic for the Pale Rider, he dropped his gaze and said: "I... cannot."

The Crowfather watched him carefully, trying to figure out why he refused to make a fair exchange. "You annihilated their flesh, why do you guard their souls?" he asked.  
But the Reaper had enough of this unnerving game. Drawing his scythes from his hips he moved forward and repeated: "Open the portal."  
Lifting his chin stubbornly, the Old One stepped back and lifted his arms defensively. "You will not pass while I live."  
"So be it," Death answered and crossed his weapons in front of him.  
Without further warning, the Crowfather created a buzzing swirl of energy and shoved it right towards the Horseman’s chest. Its power pushed him down the staircase, and he had to dig the blades of his scythes deep into the stone to bring him to a halt.  
He growled at the foolish old fiend, who looked down at him with a cruel smile distorting his lips, tapping against the amulet with one of his claw-like nails.

"Here, your brethren are trapped in eternal torment. Do you wish to join them?" He held it up and tilted his head with mockery. "And what of _War_? Would you kill your brother to save your _precious_ balance?"  
That was the final nail into the Crowfather’s coffin. Death roared with unleashed fury, his eyes burning in the sockets of his skull mask: " _He is innocent_!"  
But the Old One only replied: "Are you so certain?" and disappeared in a flock of black crows.  
Scanning the thrownhall to find his hiding spot, the Reaper suddenly inhaled sharply when a familiar figure walked over the platform. It was his brother War, dragging the Chaoseater over his shoulders and making his way right towards Death.  
But the Firstborn wasn’t that easy to be tricked: he quickly recognized the signs that this was only a deception of the Crowfather, mimicking his brother’s form to weaken his defense. His robe wasn’t the bright crimson red he knew, and his eyes missed the unique glow of their kin.

Without further hesitation Death swung his scythes and unforgivingly attacked the scheme. Although the shadow of War fought well, he was clearly inferior to the true Nephilim, unable to hold against the brutal blows of the Reaper.  
Soon he missed a step and gave Death’s weapons room to sink into his flesh. The illusion faded with an explosion of magic, and left the Old One on the ground. He tried to crawl out of reach, but once his wrath had cut loose, the Reaper had no mercy with his foe, and with another strike he pierced the Crowfather on the blade of one scythe.  
Grabbing his head between a massive hand, he forced the blood spitting Old One to look at him and growled: " _Open up the portal._ "  
When he didn’t answer, Death ripped his limp body off his weapon and tossed him over the stone floor where he lost the amulet. It rolled over the cobbles and came to a plunking halt in front of Death’s feet.

Slumping his shoulders now that his enemy was beaten, he murmured: "Your secrets die with you... old fool."  
And with the last strength he could muster, the Crowfather lifted his head and whispered: " _My_ secrets, but not _yours_."

The amulet suddenly vibrated, glowing even brighter, and with a thin, high wail it imploded, its shatters flew faster than Death could react, drilling into his pectoral muscle. The Nephilim clutched his chest, roaring in pain, and collapsed on the icy ground.  
Behind him, the lifeless body of the Crowfather transformed again, a mixture of the violet vortex and the crows swallowing the unconscious Horseman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ John Milton - Paradise Lost


	3. Chapter 3

_**The uncountable worlds of our universe swirl in an endless abyss.** _

_**Many worlds ravaged by time or conflict are swallowed, returned to the nothingness from which they were formed.** _  
_**But others linger for eternity on the brink of annihilation, that creation might be balanced with destruction.** _

_**Such are the Forge Lands, a world in the autumn of its life, yet not far from the edge of darkness.  
** _

**_There the ancient kin of the Makers awaited their end, bound by a dark force that had taken over their realm.  
_ **

* * *

Never had any other creature witnessed a human coming out of a portal, and when the young Maker Karn saw the fragile body swirling through the air, he was sure he was dreaming.  
Drawing his sturdy hammer from his back, he steeled himself for a battle he expected, and slowly approached the strange being that was sprawled flat on the ground. He doubted that it was a demon or a corrupted construct, it was far too small. But he wanted to make sure, so he kept his distance and waited for the thing to move.  
But it didn’t even utter a sound, so he mustered his courage and stepped closer to inspect it. It definitely had some features in common with a small Maker, and he was quite sure now that it wasn’t demonic or angelic. But even the young ones like him were far bigger, although the long hair looked familiar, just like Muria and Alya wore it.

Somehow, he thought, it was pretty.

He bent down to sniff its funny clothing and smelled the stench of fire and smoke.  
Suddenly, the little one stirred, and Karn flinched at the sight. A painful moan escaped its delicate lips, but its eyes stayed shut. So it was alive after all, but obviously not quite all here. Because of its small size he decided that it wasn’t a serious threat to him, even if it was conscious it wouldn’t take a lot to knock it out.  
Chewing his lower lip with one of his canines, he scratched his bald head and wondered what he should do. He had been scouting for a while now and hadn’t found anything interesting at all, besides from the usual enemies in the valley. Maybe this was his chance to prove to the elders that he wasn’t as useless as they all claimed!

Taking a deep breath, he carefully wrapped his large fingers around the thin frame of the unknown creature, lifting it up as if it was fragile. Karn knew that this tiny thing needed his help, and he must not hurt it on his way back to Tri-Stone. So he carried it on both of his hands right in front of his chest, minding his step through the Weeping Crag so he wouldn’t drop it.  
Every now and then he risked a glance down to study the slender features of the little one, and he had to suppress the urge to wipe away the grime and ashes that stained its face.

After all Eidard had to decide what they would do with it - he surely knew what was best, he always did.

Now that there were only few of them left in the Forge Lands, life had become more difficult. Karn could hardly remember the time before Corruption had spread over their realm, when there had been many young ones like him. Naturally a Maker was always busy doing something, but now leaving the security of Tri-Stone was risky and dangerous. He would never dare to admit it, but Karn was bored and unchallenged, and because of his age he hadn't yet gained the patience and endurance of his fellow Makers.  
His heart ached for adventures he would seek in the valley, always on the edge of a precipice, trying desperately to win their attention and respect, mostly failing miserably.  
For once in his life he wanted to make something right, and the thought quickened his steps.

Finally, Karn entered the home of the last Makers, and saw Thane beating the hell out of a wooden dummy with his enormous axe.  
He groaned and pressed himself to the wall of the stone staircase that led down to the bridge, hoping that the older Maker would somehow overlook him.  
"Aye, look who’s back!" came the thundering voice of the blademaster, and the young one anxiously looked down to see if he had woken up the little stranger. Relieved to see that its eyes remained close, he smiled and ignored Thane.  
"Oi, Pup! Do I have to teach ye some manners?" he shouted, but Karn didn’t halt his tracks. Purposefully he made his way through a small tunnel that lead to a quiet courtyard where Eidard was standing. His ears twitched delightfully when he saw the white bearded elder, and he had to remind himself to slow down his steps.

"Eidard, ’m back!" he rumbled, and the friendly face of the old Maker showed a warm smile.  
Karn liked to be around him, he always had a willing ear to listen, and unlike the others who constantly mocked him, Eidard was helpful and patient with him.  
"Ah, Karn. It’s good to see you back, young one," he answered, his eyes glistening with glee as he seized Karn up. "Tell me about your adventures, I hardly ever see anything outside of Tri-Stone these days."  
A proud grin appeared upon the young Maker’s mouth when he held out his arms to show his precious discovery to the elder.  
"T’s nothing but a little critter I found coming out of a portal," he said, and Eidards thick, white brows flew up doubtfully at the sight. Stonefather only knew what the Pup had brought with him, since he was known to constantly lose and find his possessions all around the Forged Lands. But this particular thing in his hands looked quite different, and the old Maker leaned down his large head to take a closer look.

A gasp left his lips and his eyes widened when he recognized the filigree shape of the small one. "A human," he whispered, and Karn deeply frowned.  
Scrunching his nose he cocked his head and asked: "A human?! Maker’s beard! But... ain’t these the poor bastards on Earth? I thought the Guardians..."  
But Eidard waved a dismissive hand and said: "The Guardians were sent to Earth after the Apocalypse, yes. I must say I am highly surprised to see a human has escaped it... I do reckon she is the last of her kin."  
Karns pointy ears stood up as he listened, and his gaze dropped back to the tiny creature in his arms. "She? It’s a lass?" he mused, studying the sleeping female.  
The elder nodded, stroking his long beard with one hand, his expression now filled with worry. However the human had been able to travel into their realm, it must have been a dangerous and exhausting journey for her. Since she didn’t move he was sure her weak body was injured, and she needed help.

It was in the Makers nature to care for the small one: as their names suggested, they were creators of life, even if sturdy in appearance and able to fight, it was their purpose to build, forge and preserve. So it was out of question that they would now be responsible for the last human and protect her.

"Come," said Eidard, "she requires the skills of our Shaman, we might inform the others."  
Reluctantly Karn followed the elder, possessively wrapping his bulgy arms around her and lifting his chin. He was the one who had found her in the first place, and he wouldn’t allow the others to take her away from him.  
Making their way up to Murias place, he could feel the prying eyes of Thane and Alya watching him and Eidard. He sighed. There was no way he could keep the little one his secret, they would find out either way. They took the large steps up to roofed turret and saw the female Shaman standing with her wooden staff. A knowing smile curled her lips as the two approached, and although she was blind and her eyes were covered with a cloth, she didn’t need to actually see who was coming.

"You bring news from the Forged Lands, Karn," she mildly addressed the Pup who was dropping his gaze bashfully. He always felt as if she could read him like an open book. It was maddening.  
"Muria, we need your advice on the matter. It happens that our young one found a human on one of his trips, I fear she is hurt," Eidard said without waiting for Karn to reply, and the female Maker nodded wisely.  
„Come here,“ she ordered, and after he was nudged forward by Eidard, Karn hesitantly followed and offered a view of the lifeless body.  
Mumbling spells that were beyond the young Maker’s knowledge, Muria took one of her potion bottles off her belt and, guided by her magic, a small stream of a health tincture wavered through the air into the mouth of the human. Again she stirred, and Karn heard a sigh escape her lips when she was turning around in his arms to snuggle into him. A stupid grin crept into his face when he felt a warm rush of affection running through his muscular body.

Taking one of the tree branches in her reach, the Shaman cast another spell and wove its twigs and leaves into a nest. „She needs to rest now, we shall see if she is strong enough to survive,“ she said, and gestured for Karn to place her into the makeshift bed. Although he wanted nothing more than to keep her pressed to his broad chest, he bent down and carefully laid the little one into the crib, making sure she was comfortable.  
Eidard watched him with mild amusement, but his thoughts were carried away with deep concern about the fate of the Third Kingdom. He winced when suddenly Muria grasped his sleeve, leaning into him: „We better keep this as a secret and close the portal. It is unknown what her presence here means, and I dare not to think about what happens if Heaven and Hell know about her.“  
Nodding his troubled head, he followed her to inform the remaining Makers of their visitor, only to halt when he noticed that Karn wouldn’t follow.  
„Are you coming, young one?“ he asked, an eyebrow lifted with mock merriment.

He hadn't listened to what the two elders were talking about, they usually kept him out from any important discussions, so he had learned to shut his ears while they spoke.  
A flush reddened the Pup‘s cheeks, and he rubbed his neck with his eyes cast down. „Ah, I‘m on guard, just ta make sure,“ he rumbled, and was glad when Eidard simply shrugged and left.  
Crossing his forearms on the stone wall and resting his chin on top, he just stood and watched the human with a dreamy look, intrigued by the steady rise and fall of its small chest. He would make sure that nothing was harming her, with him, he swore, she would be safe. Never had anybody trusted him to care about something important, he never held any responsibility because nobody thought him capable to do so. But now he felt that she gave his life a new meaning, yes this was something big.  
The distant voices of the other Makers only reached him dimly while he absently stood sentinel over the human‘s slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

**_ Midway upon the journey of her life, a mortal  found herself drawn to the power of greater forces than she could ever imagine.  
Her straightforward pathway had been lost, her life drifting past her like a dream, and the traces of her memory faded from time like smoke in air. _ **

**_ Full of slumber she reached a mountain’s foot where the valley terminated, resting her weary body to await a being far older than her. _ **

**_There the last human found a safe haven, away from the burning ruins of her former home. ¹ _ **

****

* * *

Traveling through serpent holes was risky, even for demons. Nobody knew who had once built these ancient paths through the void, but they were full of deep magic and therefore unpredictable. Many had disappeared through the portals and never came back, trapped between the realms. Few even knew that they still existed, whispering rumors about the true power they held.  
  
Phoebe didn’t know about that of course, and her human body writhed by the force of time and space stretching beneath her. Stumbling across the suddenly appearing cobble stones, she tried to find her way without falling into the yawning chasm.  
Like a sleepwalker, she wandered only half-conscious over the floating pathway illuminated by the dim light of torches. Eventually running out of energy, she dragged herself to another blue circle at the end of a platform, and when she stumbled towards the suction of a portal, her world went black.

Frightening pictures of a burning city haunted Phoebe‘s dreams, and she tossed while she was sleeping. Nightmarish creatures lurked in the shadows to devour her, and she ran for her life to escape their claws.  
A strange voice told her to wake up, and with a thin cry she opened her eyes and jolted upwards. Being still exhausted by the former events, she groaned when her limbs cramped and her head throbbed with a dull ache. She could taste copper on her tongue, and her vision was blurred when she tried to focus on her surroundings.  
Lacking any strength to get up, she thumped backwards again and closed her eyes. Panting as if she had run a mile, it took a few moments until she became aware of the strange feeling underneath her hands. It felt cool and sleek, and when she stretched her hands out she could feel its shape beneath her fingertips. It almost felt like... _leaves_? With a deep intake of breath she smelled crisp, fresh air that filled her lungs, a soft breeze rustling through what she thought must be a tree.  
Slowly she opened her eyes again, getting used to the bright sunny light that blinded her. She frowned and blinked to clear her vision, only to confirm that she indeed lay on an exceptionally large branch.

Swallowing hard she managed to lean on her elbows, looking around the odd bedding, only to find a pair of huge _eyes_ watching her.

If her throat hadn’t been dried out, she’d probably screamed, but she could only sit there frozen, her mouth agape. So it hadn’t been a dream: realization of what had happened to her hit her like a wrecking ball, and suddenly everything came back to her mind. The fire, the demons and the bodies.  
She hadn’t escaped, she had just woken up in another hell. With an expression of unnameable horror on her face she slid backwards, soon being trapped by the back of her wooden shelter.  
The giant in front of her suddenly rose to his full height, towering over her. He was probably about twelve feet tall and intimidating.  
„Ah... you’re awake!“ he boomed, and the sheer volume of his voice made her tremble. What was this creature about to do now? Would it eat her alive or kill her right away?  
It wasn’t until the monster lifted his hands and awkwardly fidgeted with his enormous digits covered with gloves, that she questioned his sinister intentions. Phoebe could only stare while the giant was gnawing on its lower lip, its gaze flickered between her and his hands. It was a gesture that was oddly familiar to her, it was... _human_ somehow.

Finally, it spoke again, a little softer this time: „’M sorry, didn’t wanna scare ya.“  
Staring up at him she recognized a pair of pointy ears that twitched on the sides of his hairless head, two sharp canines peeking out of his incredibly large mouth. He was wearing some sort of leathered armor that hardly covered his bulky arms. He didn’t look like one of those demons she had seen, and he obviously wasn’t an angel.  
When she didn’t answer, the giant hurried to add: „Folks around town call me pup, or lad, but I prefer my own name... Karn.“ He was speaking with a significant accent, the words rolling from his tongue in a pleasant chant.  
She gulped, and at loss of anything else to do she replied with a coarse voice: „Ph-Phoebe.“  
The one called Karn blinked, and slowly his large lips curved into a terrifying smile. But there was something about him that made her oddly calm, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. Something told her that this guy wasn’t going to harm her, despite his size and demeanor.

„I... wh-where _am_ I?“ she asked sheepishly, hoping that the stranger wouldn’t change his mind. But he planted his hands on his hips and said: „Yer in Tri-Stone, home of the Makers!“  
She frowned, trying to process what he had said. The name of this place didn’t ring a bell, and somehow she doubted that she was still on Earth.

All of a sudden the giant became nervous and started flailing his arms, searching for something. „Och Maker‘s Bone, I forgot to give ya some water! Eidard said ya might be thirsty,“ he murmured, and from somewhere beyond her sight he drew out a metal vessel and carefully put it down in front of her, watching her expectantly. It looked like a toy in his hands, but to her it was still huge like an amphora. Her burning throat made her forget her fear, and she greedily took a big mouthful of water that spilled over her neck, but she didn’t care. It felt wonderful.  
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she looked up to Karn, who was still monitoring her every movement. And to the utter delight of the Maker she gave him a shy smile.  
„Thank you,“ she said, and the tips of his ears flushed at the softly spoken words.  
„Ah, t’s nothing,“ he said, trying to conceal his pride.

Before she could ask him how she had come to this place, another giant appeared. If she had to guess Karn’s age, she wouldn’t be sure how to answer, but the Maker that was now looking down to her surely was a Methuselah.  
Under a massive helmet sat a friendly face that was covered with thick, white hair. His long beard was braided and reached down to a richly ornamented belt. Although he was leaning against a staff, he seemed just as sturdy as Karn, with oversized hands and a relatively small head.  
The deep furrows on his skin spoke of wisdom beyond experience, and despite his sheer size Phoebe wasn’t scared when she saw him.  
"I see you have awoken, little one," he rumbled, and if she didn’t know it any better he looked almost relieved to see her.  
Still too overwhelmed to find her speech she only stared at him, but fortunately he seemed to be aware of her inconvenient situation and added: "I am Eidard, the eldest of the Makers. What shall I call you, human?"  
"Her name’s Phoebe!" Karn blurted, and the elder scolded him with a disapproving glance. He flattened his ears coyly, and she couldn’t help but grin at the sight, quickly hiding her mouth behind her hand.

Slowly, Eidard drew his attention back to her. Pursing his lips while he seized her up, he asked: "Now, Phoebe, I believe you would like to comply to your human needs?"  
But before she could even process what he meant, Karn was chiming in again: "Oh, I gave her the water, just as you said Eidard!"  
The patience of the Maker with the young one was put to the test that day, and with a sharp intake of breath he made clear that he didn’t wish to be interrupted again.  
"Uhm, I... I’m really hungry," Phoebe dared to say, and the heads of both giants flew back to her.

Eidard stroke his beard thoughtfully and mumbled: "Ah right, I forgot... humans not only have to drink but also to eat. Very well then, I believe Karn here will be very happy to get you some food."  
"Whu-? Oh, I sure do!" And without needing any further order, the young one turned around to get on his way, his heavy steps shaking the ground. He was already halfway down the stony staircase, when he suddenly halted and questioningly looked at Eidard.  
"Ah... what do humans eat actually? I know the constructs need stones, but I don’t think she can chew them...," he wondered, scratching his head.  
Phoebe saw the large shoulder of the elder shake with quiet laughter, then he answered: "Bring some fruits and meat. And don’t get lost, Pup!"  
Following her habits she waved Karn goodbye, and he returned the gesture with a crooked smile.

"I see you already made a friend here," Eidard’s low voice came back again, an inquiring eyebrow lifted at her.  
The corners of her mouth twitched, and she shrugged indifferently, not sure what to answer. "I hope so... I haven’t seen anything friendly lately ," she hesitantly said.  
The maker nodded and stretched out his free large hand. "How about if you clean yourself, and then we talk. I imagine you have many questions."  
Looking down on her she saw that her clothes were ripped and stained with blood and ashes, and she plucked at her shirt with disgust. "Yeah... I think I would like that."

At first, it was strange to sit on the meaty palm, but since she didn’t fully trust her still weak knees and the distance to walk seemed quite long considering the Maker’s size, she finally decided that it wasn’t that bad. Eidard handled her with care, and from this level she had a good view around. Carved into the stone was a great courtyard that made her feel even smaller than she already was. She could spot some trees and other plants growing into the vale, reminding her of large pines. Connected by a bridge were two pavilions, and Eidard brought her from one to the other.  
A piercing sound cut through the air, and when they climbed up the stairs she saw two other Makers busying themselves around an enormous anvil.

"Thank the Stonefather, the human is _alive_!" a female voice bellowed, and a beautiful, red haired giantess approached. With her hands on her large hips she bent down to look at Phoebe who suddenly felt very exposed under the curious eyes of the Maker.  
"Hm, you’re even smaller than I thought! The name’s Alya, and that’s my brother Valus," she gestured towards another male, who was wearing a helmet that fully covered his face, but left his arms and hands unprotected to the sparks of his workpieces. He didn’t even turn his head, nor did he utter a word, he seemed to be solely focused on the hammer in front of him.  
"I’m Phoebe, nice to meet you," she said and watched the muscular lady giggle.  
"Alya, would you be so kind to prepare some hot water for our guest? Her journey has surely been long, and she seeks to find some refreshment," Eidard said, and Phoebe felt heat creep into her cheeks. Slightly embarrassed by her appearance, she felt relieved when the Maker clapped her hands and fetched an iron bowl to fill.

Carefully Eidard lowered his hand to the ground so she could dismount, and she thanked him for the ride. "I will leave you to the care of Alya now. Take your time, I may see you later."  
Shortly after, the female came back to grab her and lift her off the ground again, and she had to suppress the urge to shriek. Alya wasn’t as cautious as the others, and so Phoebe felt like being on a rollercoaster. She was carried behind a pitted curtain, were her bath had been prepared. "It isn’t much, but it’ll do for now. Just call if you need anything," the Maker said, and roughly set her down.  
With a blur of her auburn hair she was gone, and Phoebe hesitantly tested the water with her hand. It had just the right temperature, so she stripped off her clothes to get inside. At first, her skin burnt with the hot liquid where it was scratched and grazed, but the warmth was a blessing to her sore muscles, and she soon relaxed. Scrubbing off the grime and dirt from her face and soaking her hair, she noticed the numerous bruises on her arms and legs, frowning at the sight.

"I can help you with these," a voice said, and Phoebe almost jumped out of her skin with shock. Turning around she saw another female Maker standing against the stone railing, and she instinctively covered herself with her hands.  
But when she took a closer look she saw that her eyes were hidden behind a blindfold, and that she was leaning against a staff just like Eidard.  
"E-excuse me?" was all she managed, but the Maker only chuckled.  
"You have nothing to fear, little one. Here, let me attend your wounds," she said, and pulled a bottle from her belt. Inside was a yellow shimmering substance, and she pulled out the cork to let a few drops trickle into the bath water.  
Phoebe eyed her suspiciously, and stiffened when the liquid began to glow and flowed towards her. As if it _knew_ where it was needed, the tincture seeped into her skin and healed it.  
She gasped and incredulously touched the spots.  
"Wow, that was... _amazing_ , thank you."  
"You are very welcome. I am Muria, the Shaman of our small group. You might want to change your wear for a more suitable attire," she said, gesturing down to a pile of clothes on the ground.

Phoebe gaped at it, but when she looked up to thank the Maker, she was gone. Wondering how such a large creature was able to disappear without her noticing it, she dried herself and wove her damp hair into a braid. Muria had left her a simple woven dress she secured with a strap of leather, and wrapped herself in the fur of an unknown animal.  
Folding her dirty and shattered shirt and jeans, she carried them together with her shoes and walked barefoot over the warm cobbles. When Alya noticed her leaving, she barked: "Need a ride, lassy?" But Phoebe just shook her head a little too fast, and quickly added that she was fine with walking. The female giant just shrugged and went back to her work, and Phoebe was rather grateful for that. However friendly and helpful the strangers had been, she wasn’t too keen with being tossed around, even if it was with good intent.

Taking in her surroundings, she suddenly spotted another Maker - _honestly, how many of these existed?_ \- who was swinging a large axe repeatedly to a wooden pole.  
He stopped his eager attempts and looked in her direction, and even from the distance she could tell that he wasn’t pleased with what he saw. Swallowing hard and clutching her clothes to her chest, she watched him tilt his head dismissively, and with a huff he turned around to pursue his training.  
Before she could worry about him any further, she heard the Karn call her from behind. He was standing on top of the other turret, waving his large hand frantically, and she couldn’t help but to smile at the absurd picture.  
Climbing up to him she shot the fighting Maker in the distance a weary glance, but Karn just said: "Ach, don’t mind him, Thane is just a wee ruff, that’s all."

The young one had been successful on his hunt, and was roasting what she supposed was a large bird over a fire. Climbing up the huge staircase, she had to pause for a moment to catch her breath, seeing Eidard waiting for her as well.  
"I hope this meal will satisfy you, we Makers hardly need to eat at a time," he said when she came closer, her mouth watering when the scent of hearty meat filled her nostrils. Next to the fireplace was a bag with what they called "berries" and happened to be fruits with the size of a large apple and rich purple skin.  
She had stopped counting how many times she had thanked her saviors now, and they watched with contentment as she sat down to relish the food that tasted nothing like anything she had eaten before.

Feeling splendidly full, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Although the fatigue crept back into her bones, she expectantly looked up to Eidard who had patiently waited until she had finished her meal.  
"So... I think I need a little information on all this," she said, gesturing randomly around her at a loss of words.  
The elder understood and nodded knowingly. "What can you remember before you came here?" he asked.  
Phoebe couldn’t suppress a shiver at the memory. "There was fire... everything was burning. And there were... _monsters_ \- creatures, and _angels_! I’ve never seen anything like this before. They killed-" The last word stuck into her throat, and she had to bite her lower lips to fight back the upcoming tears that welled in the corners of her eyes. Swallowing hard, she tried not to let the horrible pictures overwhelm her, but suddenly a thought struck her mind.  
"There was a man," she slowly said, her gaze going adrift when she evoked the remembrance of the crimson warrior. "A human?" Eidard asked cautiously, his old eyes suddenly sparkling with a hawk like glint.  
She shook her head and frowned. "No, he... he wasn’t human. But I don’t think he was an angel either. He spoke to one of them - I think his name was... Abaddon? But they both were killed by a giant demon - He called him _Horseman_."

Eidard’s fingers closed around his staff until his knuckles were all white, a deep cease appeared between his brows, and Phoebe watched him with growing concern.  
"Eidard," she pleaded, and he slowly opened his eyes again, an almost tender expression on his wise face.  
"Please, tell me what happened to my home," she begged him, unable to hold back the tears.  
A heavy sigh that carried all the burdens of the elder rushed through his beard. "Very well then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ Loosely derived quote from the Danthe Alighieri’s Divine Comedy, Inferno, Canto I


	5. Chapter 5

_**Settled within the realm of the Makers, the human stood and was in awe.** _

_**Bereft of her homeland, she listened to the elusive tale of their Elder and learned about the dreadful con that had led Mankind to extinction.** _

_**A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, we bid be quiet when we hear it cry ¹.  
Thus witnessing the mortal grieving over her lost kin, the Makers could not offer her a way out of her misery, but burdened with like weight of pain, friendship wove a bond between the unequal creatures.** _

* * *

Karn hated to see her cry.  
Makers used to be merry, simple creatures, and even the loss of their realm to Corruption couldn't completely deprive them of their strong and calm demeanor. Seeing the human shedding her tears with unbound sorrow tore at his heart, and he had to get a grip on himself not to just sweep her back into his bulky arms and comfort her.

Eidard was speaking with his steady and composed voice, and the young Maker listened to learn more about the little human's fate.  
He told her about the never ending war between Heaven and Hell, the first two Kingdoms of the universe. Usually the schemes and conflicts of them didn't concern the Makers, although they built cities for both of them. Karn, however, didn't know much about them aside from the tales that the elders told to the young ones when they came of age.  
To restore the balance in the universe, the Charred Council had been created, a mysterious entity that bound the rivals to seek peace. At this time the paradise of Eden was given to the Third Kingdom of Man, but a fourth race claimed the realm for themselves:

Nephilim - cursed union of angel and demon.  
The Nephilim put countless realms to the sword, and burned them to ash. As they possessed no world of their own, they attacked the Garden to take it for themselves. But four amongst them grew weary of the slaughter, and feared their conquest would imperil the balance. And so a truce was made: The Four would serve the Council, in exchange for unimaginable power.  
Thus were the dreaded Horsemen formed: War, Fury, Strife and Death. One of them, War, had been the crimson hooded warrior Phoebe had seen on her last day on Earth.  
And the Rider's first task was to purge their own brethren from Creation, to annihilate the Nephilim and destroy their souls.

Karn shuddered unwillingly, being highly appalled by the thought of such despicable actions. Why couldn't they just mind their own business and leave each other in peace? Fighting over power and property seemed quite illogical to him, and he snorted distastefully when Eidard told about the quarrelsome tribes.

Humanity had then been relocated to Earth after the battle, to grow under the guard of the Charred Council. To protect them from the forces of Heaven and Hell, every access to Earth had been restricted and Seven Seals were forged to be broken the day that Mankind would be strong enough to persist their strength.  
Until now.  
Frowning deeply, Karn bit back the question he desired to have answered: why had the Apocalypse been brought over the mortals when they obviously hadn't been ready for it?

Phoebe had fallen silent beneath him, her gaze dropped to the stony floor.  
He wished he could read her mind, nervously kneading his large fingers while he waited for a reaction. Eidard had stopped his narration to give her time to think, and he patiently waited for her to process the information.  
Slowly she lifted her head, blinking with confusion, and Karn saw her small pink lip darting out to wet her lips. "So... War has come to Earth to trigger the Apocalypse? But how did he manage that without breaking the Seventh Seal as he said? How did these demons and angels even get to Earth?"  
Karn's eyes flew back and forth between her and Eidard, and the elder stroke his beard jadedly. "This I do not know, little one. Given the meaning of your own observations, I fear the Horseman has been betrayed. But I cannot say by whom or why this happened," he answered.

"B-but if it was a... an accident, then we have to go to the Charred Council! We have to tell them the truth and then..." She stammered, her hands knotted into fistfuls of her dress.  
Eidard looked at her with an unfamiliar expression. Never in his life had Karn seen that kind of emotion in the eyes of the elder - it was honest and true compassion.  
"Unfortunately we cannot escape the Forge Lands, for the Tree of Life that connects the realms has fallen to Corruption, a dark force that has bereft us of our former power. Our days are numbered, and we must stay here until we fulfill our destiny."

Drooping the tips of his ears, Karn stood between his fellow and the human, feeling her despair as it mirrored his own.  
The tears had run dry, and with a gravely voice she said: "I see."  
Shortly flicking his gaze to the young Maker, Eidard cleared his throat and added: "My sympathies for your loss, Phoebe. But you must know that you are most welcome amongst our fellowship here in Tri-Stone. I promise that you are safe within these walls, and as long as we can withstand the dark forces we shall protect you."  
A sad smile curved her lips, and to Karn's relieve Phoebe nodded at Eidard. "Thank you... I mean, really. I appreciate your help, and I would be happy if I could stay here with you."

The elder relaxed at her answer, apparently glad that she would accept his offer. "Try to rest now, human. Karn here will asisst you with your sleeping place."  
And with that Eidard turned around and went away, leaving him alone with the pitiful little creature to his feet.  
He shifted uneasily from one foot to another, not sure what to say. Finally, he mustered his courage and asked: "Ah... may I help ye to get up here?"  
She looked at him with hooded eyes, the exhaustion written all over her delicate face. "Yes, please," she merely whispered, and he bent down to carefully pick her up.  
By the time they had listened to Eidard's stories, the sun had set and now the last light of the day colored the sky.

With all diligence he could raise, he placed her in the nest, watching her yawn and curling up between the leaves. She looked to lost and forlorn, all the more because of her size.  
Standing in front of her sleeping place, he suddenly became aware how strange she must find his presence, and before he could embarrass himself even more he mumbled: "Aye, er... I get lost then..."

"Karn?"  
He turned a little too quickly and almost hit the crib with his large hands at the sound of her voice. "A-aye?"  
She was sitting on her knees, biting her lower lip and wringing her hands, her brows knit together in a frown. "Could you- I mean... could you please... stay? Just for a while?"

All he could do was stare at her, mouth agape, and he saw a rosy flush coloring her cheeks when he didn't answer. "Uhm, never mind..."  
Then the gears in his brain worked properly again, and he found his speech: "Why, a coorse! I stay as long as ye like!"  
And with a low thumping sound he sat down, his back against the wall of the turret. Phoebe smiled shyly at him and mumbled a thanks, sinking back on her side.

His heart was fluttering in his chest, and he felt incredibly proud at the thought of the human trusting him enough to guard her sleep again.

Out of earshot Eidard and Muria were musing about the strange fate that had brought the mortal amidst them.  
"Do you think she speaks the truth?" the Shaman asked casually, leaning against her staff.  
Eidard hummed. "She has no reason to do otherwise. And if it is true, Earth's doom weighs even heavier. Something is rotten in the Third Kingdom, and it didn't emerge from humanity."  
The female Maker nodded, and together they stood in the fading light, the velvety curtain of night stretching out over what was left of their home.

"It matches my seeings, elder. In some way, the threads of our destiny are woven with the human's, but I cannot say what they lead to," Muria's rich voice wavered through the dusk.  
"Tell me, what have you seen?"  
Tilting her head she flicked away her silver hair and began to speak: "The Four are divided, each of them following a path the crime has led them to. But one of them stands out amongst his brethren."  
Eidard's throat felt dry when he whispered: "Which one is it?"  
A smug grin appeared under the blindfold of the Shaman. "I think you know the answer."

" _The Pale Rider_."

She nodded. "I can feel his presence, but it is blurred like a rain washed sky. You knew that the time would come where the Makers had to stand their ground."  
His age and knowledge pressed heavily on him, he worried about the last of his people and their uncertain future. "Aye... but I was hoping to keep everyone safe."  
A sympathetic hand rested on his shoulder, and although he could not see her eyes, he felt her watching him.  
"Even the smallest person can change the course of future²," she said encouragingly.

He hoped that she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ William Shakespeare - The Comedy of Errors  
> ² J.R.R. Tolkien - The Lord of the Rings


	6. Chapter 6

**_Forgotten by the waging armies of Heaven and Hell, the Makers awaited the end of their reign._ **  
**_Deprived of the fire and water of the Mountain, their forge remained cold, and their Guardians stood silent._ **

**_The human though grew under the watchful eyes of her hosts, holding a power she was not aware of._ **  
**_Little did she know, that soon her destiny would be fulfilled with the arrival of a Horseman._ **

* * *

Time was a funny thing in the different realms of the universe.  
In some worlds it appeared to pass more quickly than in others, and while some beings happened to get very old, others only lingered for the blinking of an eye. And so the years flew by in a blur, and Phoebe lived amongst the Makers in the Forge Lands. Trapped within Tri-Stone without the conveniences of her life on Earth, she had plenty of time to make the stony fortress her new home.  
Aside the courtyard she had built herself a small retreat in the hollow of the stone, where she stored her few possessions and sometimes rested.

In the first few months her sleep had still been haunted by nightmares, and when she woke up she had to recall where she was. Everytime it hit her with a leaden intensity, and she bit her knuckles to stifle her cries.  
Somehow Karn was always at her side, guarding her slumber with his watchful eyes. Shortly after she had arrived, he insisted on carrying her around until she would recover, and it often happened that she fell asleep in his large hands. Since the Makers had no need of sleep, she thought it must be quite inconvenient for him, but instead of placing her inside of her makeshift bed, he would keep her close to his chest. Phoebe cherished his freely given closeness and snuggled into the supple leather of his armor. His secure grip and warm breath soothed the pain and fear, and he too seemed to find comfort in her presence. Sometimes, when he thought her fast asleep, she could feel his massive fingers gently caressing her hair, and with the constant, deep pounding of his heart she found peace while she rested.

They never talked about it.

Karn had become her closest friend and partner in crime, he was the anchor that settled her whenever the sheer realization of her fate struck her to the bone. Both outcasts in their own way, they longed for understanding they couldn't find with the other Makers. He was never ill mooded or grumpy, and that was something she especially liked about him. She could understand that this part of his personality was sometimes unnerving to the more mature Makers, but to her it was refreshing and reassuring.  
Although Phoebe appreciated every single of them, even Thane, she was painfully aware of their differences. But when she was together with Karn, she could forget her loss and grief for a while. He never grew bored of her and always welcomed her attention, occasionally forgetting about his duties to the displeasure of his people. But he didn't mind their mocking, his face always alight when he spotted her.

Her fickle human heart needed something to cling on, and since Karn was showing so many familiar human manners, she couldn't help but being affected with him. She enjoyed sitting on his large shoulders or letting him throw her upwards just to catch her in time, giggling about their utter foolishness. They could spend hours with talking, and Karn always happened to ask her something about her former life. Even if he didn't fully understand everything she said about trains, planes and automobiles, he was always listening carefully, soaking up every word. In return, he told her stories about the Makers and what he knew from the other Kingdoms and creatures, willingly sharing his knowledge about his realm.

Phoebe would never get used to the fascinating history of this ancient universe, asking Eidard questions about them until the proverbial cows came home.  
In her first years she missed the modern amenities of books, television and radio. Since the Makers didn't let her leave the security of Tri-Stone, she soon got bored and loathed for some distraction. Being able to convince Eidard that she was safe if Karn joined her, he soon picked her up when he went out hunting for her.  
From this time on they went scouting every other day, and although they met demons and corrupted constructs, Phoebe never had to fear anything as long as Karn was at her side.

The Makers became her new family and helped her getting through her times of sorrow. Although rough and edgy, she soon learned that they had a big heart and a certain soft spot for the human in their midst.  
Especially Alya and Valus were always happy to have Phoebe around her, and she became very fond of the siblings.  
While the Forge Sister was chatty and curious about her origin and life on Earth in general, her brother never talked to her and was all about the metal on his anvil.  
When Phoebe asked Alya about the reason of his taciturnity, the face of the Maker grew weary, and with a great sigh she answered: "Ah, he hasnae uttered a word since corruption tookover the valley... but just 'cos he dosnae speak, mustnae mean he's got nothin' tae say."

So Phoebe went to him the other day, trying to break through his reserve.  
As usually, he was working on something, and he ignored her pathetic attempts to draw his attention. "Hey, down here!" she called and waved her hands, but he refused to look at her as if she was invisible.  
Growing frustrated and impatient, she stomped her feet and yelled: " _Valus_!"  
Only then the Maker reluctantly stopped his movements and slowly turned his head to her. A grim smile curved her lips at the victory.  
"Ah... hulloh?" Phoebe said sheepishly when he didn't speak, but he remained silent.

"Uhm... I was wondering if... you could make me a weapon?" she asked, striving to hold the unnerving gaze behind his helmet. At first she thought he hadn't heard her, because he was standing immobile, but then he gradually bent down, his huge face now directly in front of her. She could hear his breath behind the metal of his helmet, and saw his large, bare hands covered with soot.  
Suddenly Phoebe felt insecure about her bold question, now a little anxious considering their height difference. But then he rose and turned around again, and she left the forge with the bitter feeling of disappointment on her tongue.  
She couldn't blame him honestly - she was a stranger who intruded his home, and she had no right to ask something from him.

It was a huge surprise when he walked up to her three days after when she was visiting Alya, carrying something in one of his paws. He bent down and opened his hand, and in the middle of his palm lay a warhammer.  
Her eyes grew wide and she looked at him with unconcealed bewilderment. "For _me_?" she asked coyly, and he nodded his large head.  
She grabbed the heavy weapon and weighed it in her hand - she would need some time to get used to it, the muscles in her arms were far too weak to handle it properly, but she could do that.

And like the rising of the sun a large smile lit up her face, and without thinking about it she rushed forward and hugged the giant as best as she could. He stiffened under the unaccustomed touch, but let her press into his armor until she finally released him.  
"Thank you," she whispered, and went away to show her new achievement to Karn.  
Valus rubbed his neck and watched her leave, his sister chuckling amusedly next to him.

The only one who stubbornly refused to talk with her more than necessary was Thane.  
He viewed the human with suspicion, and didn't even try to hide his diapproval. That and the fact that he was giving Karn always a hard time during their trainings, made it difficult for Phoebe to like him.  
However clumsy and rough the young Maker might had been, Phoebe would always spur him on and attend his wounds after the training, since he refused to take a health potion. He wanted to impress the others, but all too often failed, and it grieved him evidently. But when she stroked the bulky flesh of his neck, she saw his ears twitch with delight, smiling at his soon brightening mood.

Nevertheless Phoebe had come to the admission that she and Thane had to get along somehow. Fate had brought them together, and there was no use in being picky about their allies.  
So she mustered her courage after Karn's attempts in teaching her how to fight had been fruitless, and stepped up to talk to the blademaster.  
"Thane? I need to talk to you," she said, carefully not to get between his weapon and the wooden dummies.  
He growled and didn't stop his movements. "I have nae time for ye, ankle biter," he grumbled, but Phoebe remained stubborn.  
"Listen, I know you don't like me, but I didn't ask for this either!" She jumped in front of the pole and clenched her jaw when he finally shot a hateful glance down to her.

Gritting his teeth, he lifted one threatening finger and said: "I only tell you one more time, lass: _get outta my way_!"  
She lifted her chin, a firm and fearless expression on her face, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm _not_ scared of you!"  
Thane barked a laugh, throwing his head back with mockery. His eyes were glistening with mischief when he looked at her again. Ever so slowly, he drew his weapon. "That so? How about now-"  
\- and with that he swung his axe in her direction.

Phoebe instinctively raised her own hammer and parried his blow, and a piercing cling echoed from the walls of his training ground.  
He blinked, confusion rather than anger twisting his features. Although Phoebe knew that the strike wasn't meant to seriously hurt her, and he had probably halted mere inches before her face, the Maker was left dumbstruck by her unexpected reaction.  
"Where did ya get this?" he asked incredulously, carefully inspecting her weapon.  
"Valus made it for me," she answered, hoping that he didn't hear the quiver in her voice.  
" _Valus_? Hmph," he said indifferently, and lifted his axe.

"I know there's nothing I can do against corruption, but I already lost one world, and I won't let this one go down without fighting for it," she said passionately, her chest filling with pride.  
He looked down at her with a thoughtful expression on his face, musing over her words. He was a warrior after all, and he _did_ appreciate a fighter's heart. With a great sigh he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. "Oh Maker's Bone, I'm gonna regret this... fine."  
Phoebe's heart did a somersault in her chest, and she beamed up at him.  
"But you must obey to what I'm saying, am I clear? Any complaints and I will stop this immediately." Phoebe eagerly nodded and promised to do everything he wanted her to.

It was hard for her to get along with Thane's merciless severity, and there were many nights when she felt beaten up and exhausted. But Karn was there to give her comfort, so she withstood the pain and carried on.  
Thanks to the constant training and the weapons of the Maker's forge, she soon became a skilled fighter and was able to slay enemies thrice her size.  
Muria equipped her with armor and proper clothing, showing her how to make simple health potions and crafting her a magical talisman to protect her.

Yes, life had regained its purpose for her again.  
But in the darkest corner of her heart, Phoebe remained lonely.

Many nights Karn and her would sit and watch the star embroidered sky, the ink black canopy as dark as she had never witnessed it on Earth. Two moons were shining bright in the distance, leaving even the Makers feeling small and insignificant.  
"Karn?" she asked into the silence, her gaze not leaving the endlessness of the universe displaying above her. She was laying on his belly, her arms crossed behind her head, and the Maker's hand securely wrapped around her.  
He made an noncomittal sound to show that he had heard her, awaiting her to continue.

"What do you think happens after death?" The young one didn't answer first, and she could only hear his steady breathing tousling her hair.  
"That a strange question," he rumbled, and she chuckled at his answer.  
Thrusting an elbow against him in the weak attempt to playfully cuff him, she said: "Come on, you know me. I _always_ ask strange questions. So?"  
He shifted beneath her, and she could almost hear the thoughts in his brain rattle.

"Ah... ye know, Eidard told me stories about the Kingdom of the Dead. He said that every soul is judged there before it goes intae the Well of Souls or the Abyss... Except of us Makers. Our Souls are formed intae Heart Stones to give life to constructs... but I dunnoh... I'm just a pup."  
She rolled her eyes at his self-loathing, but no matter how many times she reassured him of his value, she knew that it only took one comment of the others to make him feel useless, so she ignored it.  
"Hm. So it's not supposed to be the end, right?" she mused, eyes still wandering up to the night sky.  
"Ach, let's nae talk about 'tis now. When the time comes, we face it like true warriors, eh?" Karn said, trying to distract her.

"Yeah, sure big boy. Sure..."

The next day Thane send Karn to the dungeon in the east of the Forge Lands, and the other Makers concordantly refused Phoebe go with him.  
"It is too dangerous there, even for one of our kin," Eidard said softly when she argued over the subject.  
"But I can fight, I've been away with Karn on many occasions!" she pleaded, humiliated by the pathetic sound of her words. She didn't want to throw a tantrum, after all she respected Eidard as the elder, but the thought of letting Karn leave without her settled a dull feeling of desperation inside of her.  
"Aye, but 'tis nothing like the Vale there. We don't know if Gharn still lingers inside, and ye can't do nothing against this construct," Thane pointed out, and that settled the decision.

Karn would have to go alone.  
He wasn't worried at all, on the contrary: he was looking forward to this adventure, a new chance to prove his worthiness to the others.  
When they were out of sight, he hugged her tightly and whispered: "'M back soon, lassy."  
She waved him goodbye when he disappeared through the entrance and looked after him until Thane rolled the heavy round stone platter back in its place to seal it.


	7. Chapter 7

_**In the beginning Death sought the Crowfather. But what he found was something more. A secret, once forgotten - a path, to another world.** _  
_**And in the final moment of battle Death was banished to a decaying world.** _

_**Had Death been sent to his doom? That answer would be found in the Horseman's future - and in his past.** _

* * *

Death swirled in an endless abyss of unconsciousness.  
Unable to think and react, he just drifted between the worlds, like a feather on the surface of a wild rippling river. Time and space became insignificant, only the dark, silent void was present.  
At some point the cry of his slayed brethren, now trapped under his skin, made its way into his mind and he felt the irresistible force pulling him out of his slumber.  
Reality tore and dragged at the edges of his being, and he writhed in agony when suddenly the nothingness around him exploded into a hot, shining point -

\- and he opened his eyes.

A huge creature was towering above him, touching his chest with its large hands, and Death felt the unmistakeable power of magic flushing through him.  
His instincts were sharp as ever, and instead of lingering on his back he came to his feet in one quick motion, ready to fight.  
"Don't _touch_ me!" he hissed, bringing some space between him and the stranger.  
The giant diminished the spell he had cast in the palm of his hand, now that the Horseman was awake. With a great sigh he turned around and leaned himself against a staff.

"Your arrival here is a bad omen. Yes... troubles me greatly..." he said with a rich and deep voice.  
He stood in front of an even larger statue made of stone and stroked his long, white beard. Death blinked, and within a few seconds he had scanned his surroundings. It was a Maker who had found him, and he had left the Crowfather's icy fortress. Anger swelled in his chest at the memory of their fight, and he clenched his fists looking at the elder.

"Old One, there's more trouble ahead if you don't start making sense. Where is the Tree of Life?" It was supposed to be a threat, for the Nephilim was not in the mood for a light conversation.  
The Maker had stopped his restless pacing and tilted his head. " _Life_?" he asked, and a joyless laughter shook his brawny shoulders.  
He turned around to face the Horseman, his lips curved with a wry smile. "You are in Tri-Stone, home of the Makers. But this world is dying, lad. Choking on chaos and Corruption, we can do little to stop it. Soon the great tree too shall perish, and with it the last of my people. Is that not what brought you here, Pale Rider?"

Death had no patience for the woes of the Makers, may they be as urgent as the Old One claimed. He snorted and waved a dismissive hand: "I seek the tree. Your _chaos and corruption_ don't concern me."  
To his great displeasure, the giant chuckled again, evidently unimpressed by his arrogant demeanor.  
"It seems they _do_ concern you. Corruption can't be beaten with a blade. The way to the tree is shut, and even your wrath will not open it. Seek out the Forge Sister and ask her about the Fire of the Mountain. Help her, and she will help you reach the tree."

How very presumptuous of this old fool to impose any condition of a Nephilim! It seemed that he was just as bereft of his mind as the Crowfather.  
Narrowing his eyes, the Horseman seized the stranger with a disparaging look and asked: "And who are _you_ to command a Rider?"  
The giant straightened up to his full height, making himself nearly twice the size of Death, raising his voice: "I am a Maker, older than even the Charred Council. This hands have laid the foundations for many worlds."  
And with great tiredness, his shoulders slumped and he quietly added: "But that was long ago... and now they but hardly known the touch of stone."

The hot, boiling rage inside of Death soothed a little at this confession. So the realm of the Makers was on the edge of annihilation.  
Although he wouldn't say it aloud, he could relate to the desperate situation of the Old Ones.  
So the next words weren't as sharp as before: "Are you not curious as to _why_ I seek the tree?"  
The Maker raised and eyebrow and pursed his lips with slight mockery: "I would not presume to question on of the Four... but yes, tell me."

Death ignored the sarcastic undertone and explained: "I must restore Humanity - to redeem War."  
The eyes of the Old One searched his face, an unnameable expression washing over the features of the giant. But before the Horseman could put his fingers on it, he said: "Heaven and Hell battle upon the shattered Earth, all creation trembles... and at the center of it all stands your brother."  
Again, a protective instinct settled inside of Death, and he roared: " _He is innocent_!"  
But the Maker remained calm, watching him with interest. "I never said he wasn't. The tree holds power over life and death. If you would resurrect Humanity, then you are headed in the right direction."

He gestured towards the exit of the small courtyard they were standing in, and without wasting more time, Death turned around and made his way into a tunnel carved into the stone.  
Feeling the eyes of the old Maker on his back, he wondered how he had come to this place after the Crowfather had disappeared. Touching the sensitive flesh of his chest, he suddenly remembered how the amulet had imploded. Now he was forced to carry the souls of his brethren once more, the evidence of his betray now visible for everyone.  
He repressed the thought of it and focused his mind on the task at hand. There seemed to be much work to do if he wanted to reach his destination.

Passing the tunnel he came to an even larger courtyard, and he was trying to orient himself. This place was warmer than the cold wasteland of the Icy Veil, and he could spot trees and other plants grow between carved stone. The decorations were supposed to show pride and respect for the people who created them, and despite the rough form Death couldn’t fail to see the glory that emanated from the architecture.  
But what had the Crowfather intended when he had sent him here? However this was supposed to turn out, he would have a crow to pluck with the Old One when he was going to face him again...

Speaking of which, Death suddenly turned his head to look for Dust, he hadn't seen him since he had come back to his senses:  
While scanning his surroundings, he spotted him sitting on top of a stony staircase next to a small creature.

And Death froze.

There was a _human_ petting his crow as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  
A human.

He could just stare at the delicate features and slender limbs draped across the stair railing, her legs dangling over the ground.  
Mortals neither possessed the divine, yet insolent perfection of Angels, nor the bulky, plain strength of the Maker. They lacked the power and ruthlessness of the Nephilim as well as the ugly and disgusting nature of Demons. Humans were simpler, weaker, yet astoundingly cunning and adaptable.

He hadn’t expected that any of the poor sods had survived the premature Apocalypse, and yet the female had somehow managed to escape the end of her world.  
Death had seen how the armies of hell had destroyed the Third Kingdom, how demons now inhabited the smoking remains of mankind’s former realm. The little creature in front of him wouldn’t have stood a chance, given the circumstances it must’ve been pure coincidence that she of all of her kin had outlasted. And how for Creator’s sake had she been able to get here?!  
The mortal wore a ridiculous outfit of Maker’s clothes, tailored to fit her small frame, and he could spot a warhammer draped across her back. How absurd to let such a fragile thing submit to the illusion that she was truly able to defend herself!

Their own miserable situation must’ve softened them, and apparently they nurtured, cared and fed the human as their pet. He would have a word about this with their elder later...  
Groaning and clenching his teeth, stepped up to confront the mortal, a gruesome smile playing around his lips. Well, this would be quite unpleasant for her.  
Then he heard the voice of another Maker grumbling: "Hmph, the _Reaper_. It's about time you came."

The human snapped her head in his direction, and her eyes were taking him fully in.  
She was sizing him up without hiding her interest, a strange expression playing on her finely shaped face. It wasn’t a reaction he was used to, since his appearance generally lead to terror, fear or rage. But she wasn’t showing any sign of disgust - he rather saw surprise and curiosity, maybe a slight hint of concern. And although he would never admit it, he felt exposed under her overt stare.  
With a coarse huff he crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl contorting his mouth beneath the mask.

"If I were you I would be careful about that crow. He tends to bite," he snarled, giving Dust a disdainful glance. His guide apparently enjoyed the attention of the mortal and didn’t plan to leave her side anytime soon.  
She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t stop to caress the bird’s chest, a smug grin playing around her lips. "Oh, I’m aware, thanks," she said nonchalant, and Death felt something drop in his stomach.  
"Ah, I see you already met our guest, Horseman," the elder he had seen first said, not trying to conceal the amusement in his voice. He had been following him with measured steps, and was now standing next to him.  
Death scoffed and lifted his chin: "And when exactly did you plan to tell me about _this_?" He gestured randomly at the human, who was now looking at him with a shocked expression.

"You’re one of the _Four_? The Horsemen of the Apocalypse?" she blurted and jumped off the wall to approach him. Dust was cawing huffily when she left his side, and Death shot her a suspicious look.  
How was she able to know that?!  
Standing right in front of him, she seemed even smaller and frail, her ridiculously huge eyes focused on him.  
Now was clearly not the time to get engaged with a simple representative of mankind, so he scoffed: "I am. You need an introduction, human?"  
But she skipped his salty answer and continued: "I’ve seen your brother!"  
"My brother? War?" he asked incredulously, his eyes widening and his arms dropping useless to his side.

"Yes," she answered quietly, her gaze suddenly dropping to the ground. She worried her lower lip with her small, white teeth and added: "He was there... on Earth I mean. I saw him speaking to Abaddon-"  
-" _Abaddon_?! You have seen the leader of the Hellguard himself?" This couldn’t possibly be true... there was simply no way she could no about them.  
She nodded, but her features showed an expression he could only identify as pity. "They were fighting the demons, but... there was a huge one coming out of an abyss in the street, and..."  
The mortal sighed and looked up to him again. "I’m sorry, but they were both killed..."  
He watched with bewilderment as the human slowly raised one hand as if she was going to touch him. He snorted disgracefully and crossed his arms over his chest again so they were out of reach.

"Save your pity, human. Nephilim are not so easily killed. He is questioned by the Charred Council, that’s why I’m here. I need to restore your kin to free him."  
The girl looked at him with an almost funny expression, obviously not understanding a single word he had said. So much for the _cunning_ creatures...  
"You... you can bring them back?" she asked hesitantly, her mouth agape.  
Death huffed. "I need to get to the Tree of Life, first. But once I’m there, I hope I will find a solution, yes."

Her expression became somber, and she clenched her tiny fists at her sides.  
Nodding her head with eager determination, she said: "I'll bring you to Alya then."


	8. Chapter 8

**_The arrival of the Rider brought new hope, but also fear to the people of Tri-Stone._ **

**_To reach the Tree of Life he had to rekindle the forge of the Makers, so that their Guardian could be awakened from its slumber._ **

**_Alas the human did not know her purpose in this quest..._ **

* * *

Karn had been gone for three days now, and Phoebe began to worry about him.  
She paced around like a caged tiger, restless and concerned about his wellbeing. The other Makers could do little to distract her, and so she tried to make the best of the situation and decided to train with Thane.  
The blademaster wasn’t too excited about her presence, since she was unfocused and continually missed her steps. When he hit her with the dull side of his axe for the umpteeth time, he growled with frustration and stopped their sparring.  
"Ach, lassie! We better stop this before ye get hurt!"  
Phoebe was rubbing her throbbing forearm and dropped her warhammer, knowing that he was right.

"I’m sorry, Thane. It’s just... it’s been three whole days now. He was supposed to be back by now," she complained, kicking at some loose stones on the ground.  
Sighing, the Maker wiped his face and said: "He’s tough, little one. I’d never sent him out if I didnae think he could make it."  
She looked up at him with a crooked smile and nodded. "Yeah, I know..."  
"How about ye take a break, hm?" Thane suggested, and she knew that his patience with her wouldn’t last forever. He was offering her a chance to get out with nothing more than a few bruises, and she was wise enough to accept it.

Climbing up to the rail of the staircase, she watched him continue his training alone, but her mind wandered to Karn. She was hoping that he was alright, looking forward to his return.  
While lost in her thoughts, she missed the shape of a bird in the sky that was watching her from above.  
It circled around her for a few times, and then it sat next to her, fluttering its wings. Phoebe was startled and leaned away, eyeing the familiar creature. It was a crow - how was this a _crow_?

She remembered them well since they had been her favorite animals back on Earth, but she had never seen one in the Forge Lands. She even wore a small tattoo on her left shoulder blade showing the head of the bird. This one, however, was far bigger than any crow she had seen back at home: it was as large as an eagle, with glossy black feathers and oversized claws. Its intelligent eyes were watching her carefully, and although it looked quite intimidating she couldn’t help but smile.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she slowly rose her hand to touch it, but withdrew when it snapped its brutal looking beak.  
"Huh," she uttered, eyeing the bird wearily, but then an idea came to her mind. She fumbled with her belt and processed some dried meat from a pocket, holding them out.  
The bird examined the treat with suspicion, but eventually took it and swallowed it whole. Phoebe smiled and carefully caressed its chest, marveling at the soft touch.  
"Hi, boy. Where do you come from?" she asked, but he only leaned into her hand, and she chuckled.  
Without looking away, she called: "Hey Thane, did you know that there are crows living around?"

The constant plonking of his weapon subsided, but he didn’t answer immediately and she frowned. "Thane?"  
"Hmph, the _Reaper_. It's about time you came," he grumbled, and suddenly Phoebe felt a strange tingling on her neck.  
She snapped her head and saw a stranger approaching the blademaster. He ignored the rough greeting, instead his gaze was fully set on her.

Her stomach did a somersault at the sight - _nobody_ had ever come to Tri-Stone since Phoebe had arrived here. Although no one said it aloud, the other Makers were considered dead or corrupted, and the gates to Tri-Stone were securely locked.  
But since Thane was acting all nonchalant about his sudden appearance, she instantly decided that he wasn't a threat to be bothered with, and instead took a closer look.

He wasn’t like any humanoid creature she had seen so far. There was no sign of demonic heritage, and he missed wings on his back so he couldn't be an angel either. Although his arms and torso were brawny, his figure was more slender than the Makers’, mirroring the deadly stamina of a feline predator. No doubt that he was strong and powerful, a certain tension making the muscles of his limbs twitch while he stood immobile. His skin was pale and ashy, tautly stretched over his massive biceps and abs, only his lower body covered by a leather harness.  
On the surface of his right pectoral muscle she spotted a strange wound, as if the skin had been cut with some green glowing shards of glass. Before she could inspect it further, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, blocking her view.

But what shook her most was his face: framed by long strains of raven-black hair, his features were hidden behind a skull shaped mask, only the smoldering embers of his eyes darting out of the sockets. Something inside of her writhed at the sight, buckling and squirming under the hot glare.

"If I were you I would be careful about that crow. He tends to bite." His voice was coarse and deep, and the husky timbre made her skin stipple with gooseflesh.  
She gulped, all too familiar with the disdainfool look he short her, testing the waters.  
"Oh, I’m aware, thanks," she replied sharply, continuing to stroke the bird's chest.  
He was glaring at her with blatant rejection, nevertheless she held his gaze and they stared at each other for several moments until Eidard stepped out of the tunnel behind the stranger and broke the uncomfortable silence:  
"Ah, I see you already met our guest, Horseman."

 _Horseman_? Phoebe froze.  
He averted his gaze to the Maker and gestured wildly at her. "And when exactly did you plan to tell me about _this_?"

Phoebe was too flustered to feel affronted and jumped off her seat to join the others, ignoring the angry caw of the crow.  
"You’re one of the _Four_? The Horsemen of the Apocalypse?" she asked when she stepped closer, drawn to him like a magnet.  
He was tall, even if he didn’t match the height of the Makers, and she only reached to the center of his bare chest.  
Of course. Why hadn’t she seen this earlier?  
_The Pale Rider_ , Thane had said. He was Death, maybe the most infamous of the Four Horseman.

The orange glowing eyes of the stranger flew back to her when he said: "I am. You need an introduction, human?"  
She hadn’t actually expected him to be as welcoming as the Makers, but his arrogance slightly annoyed her. She pushed it aside, too nervous to think about it now.  
"I’ve seen your brother!" she blurted, a rush of excitement jolting through her veins.  
He stiffened and seized her up with suspicion. "My brother? War?"

Suddenly, she felt her palms getting sweaty and she clenched her fists. "Yes, He was there... on Earth I mean. I saw him speaking to Abaddon-"  
-" _Abaddon_?! You have seen the leader of the Hellguard himself?" He clearly doubted that she was saying the truth, so maybe he didn’t even know what happened to his brother...  
Phoebe nodded and said: "They were fighting the demons, but... there was a huge one coming out of an abyss in the street, and..." She sighed and dropped her gaze for a moment before she added:  
"I’m sorry, but they were both killed. I’m sorry."

If anyone knew how it felt to lose someone dear, it was her. So she struggled to do something utterly human and comfort the rude Horseman, lifting her hand to give his hand a reassuring squeeze - but before she could touch him, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
"Save your pity, human. Nephilim are not so easily killed. He is questioned by the Charred Council, that’s why I’m here. I need to restore your kin to free him."  
She felt abashed and stupid, but his words made her listen up.  
"You... you can bring them back?" she asked hesitantly, her mouth agape.  
Death huffed. "I need to get to the Tree of Life, first. But once I’m there, I hope I will find a solution, yes."

He could do it. He could save Earth.  
Chewing her lips, she lifted her gaze to Eidard, who silently nodded. The Tree of Life, yes.  
She cursed herself inwardly for her ignorance. There were just so many things she didn’t know about the other creatures, it was embarrassing.  
But the Old One had told her about the Tree, and she knew that there was only one way to get to it.  
"I'll bring you to Alya then," she said and turned around to walk away, the Rider following her.

Setting a quick pace, Phoebe jogged to keep up with the large steps of Death. He didn’t look at her or try to start a conversation, his stern gaze glued to the road ahead.  
This one was a tough nut, no doubt. But to some extent she understood his rough demeanor: he was obviously under huge pressure and trying to save his brother with an almost impossible task at hand.  
That was no excuse for being so damn salty, on the other hand.

When they reached the stone terrace, Alya was looking at them with wide eyes and boomed: "Maker’s beard, the human’s got company! A Horseman in the Forge Lands!"  
Alright, so clearly everybody knew who this person was except her, great. Since he needed no further introduction, Phoebe said: "This is Alya and her brother Valus. They are the keepers of this forge."  
Death took a disapproving glance around and said: " _This_ is a Maker’s forge?!"  
Phoebe rolled her eyes. Man, he really knew how to ruin a party, didn’t he?

Mirthful creature that Alya was, she didn’t bait to his sarcasm. "Nay. The maker’s forge is lost to us, silenced by the hands of Corruption. But in its depths we once crafted the Dark Towers of Hell and the Cities of Heaven."  
The female Maker lifted her chin proudly, the red light of the fire creating a ruby shimmer on her hair. Valus didn’t mind the visitors and kept pummeling his anvil, his hammer ringing with each strike.  
But the Nephilim seemed completely unimpressed. "Now you make... _trinkets_?" he scoffed, gesturing at Phoebe’s warhammer.  
_How dare him!_ Phoebe was already opening her mouth to give that bloody idiot a few words, but Alya just chuckled amusedly.  
"And _you_? One of the Four - seeking the aid of the Makers? I guess we have all fallen from high places."

Phoebe tried to hide her chuckle behind a cough, earning another deadly glare from the Horseman.  
The Rider just snorted and waved dismissively. "I came here seeking the tree, and your elder speaks of fire. What is it?"  
Alya nodded slowly. "Aye, the Fire of the Mountain, the Stonefather’s blood! It once flowed into our forge as did the Tears. Both imbued our craft with incredible power, but Corruption has taken them, and now our forge is silent. Restore them, and the Tree can be reached."  
Phoebe wondered how she could make it sound so easy. As if not countless numbers of brave Makers had tried their best to restore the forge, each of them dying on their quest. Nobody had ever went for the Cauldron since Phoebe had arrived, and now they wanted to send a Horseman to do it?

"I'm not your errand boy, Maker," he snapped, and she couldn't really blame him for once. Asking such a favor from a stranger was... improper, somehow.  
Yet Alya clenched her jaw and retorted: "Aye, but our fates are now yoked. Help us, and we will help you."  
The Rider looked at her underwhelmed and replied: "I don’t follow your reasoning, Maker. Why does that concern me?"  
"We are Makers, not warriors, but we are not without our weapons," Alya explained. "Before the forge was lost, we crafted a mighty creature of soul and stone, a colossus to fight this Corruption. But to awaken him requires a Maker’s key - and we need our forge to craft one. Will you help us?"  
When he rolled his eyes, Phoebe was convinced that he wold refuse, but he only turned around and asked: "What is this... Cauldron?"  
"Ride east of town, through the Charred Pass and towards the cindery peak of the Stonefather. There you will find the Cauldron. And maybe our Young One, the Pup, too," Alya said and pointed towards the northern entrance to Tri-Stone.

And with that he made his way back to Thane, not waiting for anyone to say another word.  
"Hey, wait!" Phoebe called, but he ignored her, so she hastily waved Alya goodbye and went after him. By the time she caught up, he had already arrived at the gate where the blademaster awaited him.  
"Horseman, you’ll find naught that way but trouble," he said, his eyes somber.  
But Death seemed determined, his hands on his hips. "Do what you must for your kin, Old One. For _mine_ , I ride to the Cauldron."  
Thane guffawed and retorted: "If you fancy your Corruption waist deep, that’s a good place as any. Y’know there’s a reason this gate is here. And, if you were a friend I wouldnae let you pass. But then," he huffed, "who is friend to _Death_?"

Phoebe felt a little sympathy for the Rider at those gruesome words, may he be as he like. Thane was always straight forward with his opinion, and he didn’t care if he hurt anybody’s feelings.  
Death snorted and hissed: "Have you wisdom to share or was it long since knocked loose in battle?"  
Hiding her smirk behind her hand, Phoebe watched Thane narrow his eyes at that. He didn’t like being contradicted.  
"Oh, wisdom ain’t like teeth, I’ve plenty left. Enough to stay clear of the Cauldron, the ancients filled it with right nasty traps. But one so clever as you will surely elude them..."

And with that he opened the gate for him to trespass.  
Phoebe just stood on the railing and watched him go, followed by his crow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so just a few words about this story: I will stick to the main story as far as it’s necessary, but I will skip most secondary quests and some in-game mechanics.

_**Death agreed to restore the ancient Forge of Tri-Stone, and in the heart of the Makers an ember of hope was born.** _

_**Hope for life and for what lies beneath the earth.** _

_**And so the Reaper rode...** _

* * *

To say that Death was in a foul mood was an understatement.  
So far his journey to free his brother had brought him nothing but problems, beginning with that bloody old Crowfather who somehow had relegated him in this benighted realm. He hadn't managed to come closer to the Tree of Life yet, and now he had to do the dirty-cleanup for the Makers.

And the human... She had seen War, and Abbadon! That was proof enough that he had been betrayed, not that Death had ever doubted that in the first place. But nothing happened without reason, and he felt unsure at the thought of why she was here. Something told him that she had a part to play, and that only meant more problems ahead...  
He shook his head, putting the thoughts of the mortal aside. There were more urgent things he had to focus on now.

Making his way through a narrow, flooded pass, he eventually reached an open valley where he witnessed what the Old One had told him about: attached to the crag in front of him was a nasty looking black mass, its extensions like tentacles carved into the stone. In its midst sat a huge, yellow eye, gruesome and wide opened, its stare directed to the Rider.  
Was this Corruption? Surely it must be a part of it, because Death soon had to face numerous corrupted constructs that fought him with eager malice, their parts held together not by magic but the slimy, black mass instead.

They didn't last long under the mighty strikes of his scythes, but he soon understood why the Makers were so concerned about them. No matter how many of the enemies he struck down, there would always be another one waiting for him.  
So he summoned Despair and followed the path between the mountains, the vegetation becoming sparser with each mile they covered. There was the unmistakably stench of fire in the air, and Death spotted grey flakes of ashes raining down.  
Soon he found the entrance to the dungeon he had been searching for.  
Death frowned when he saw a familiar figure fighting a team of constructs in front of it and mumbled: "Not another one..."

A Maker struggled to keep the furious stone warriors at bay, but the Horseman could tell that he would hardly last any longer. So he banished his steed and drew his weapons, ready to fight.  
Together they crushed the constructs until there was only lifeless stone on the ground, and the Maker looked at him happily afterwards.  
"Thanks lad, that was..." His eyes widened when he recognized him.  
"You're a Nephilim!" he chirped, "I know the stories about you! You must be the one they call Death! How did you get here?"

Death wiped his scythes clean from the disgusting black corruption and said: "Took a wrong turn. It appears I'm stranded here with the rest of you."  
The Maker's ears twitched with delight. "Ah, so you already met the others! But... if you seek the Cauldron you should know that it fell to Corruption fair long ago. I can still feel the fire itself rumbling deep in the earth..."  
"I'll take my chances. Are you the Pup? You're different than the others - less pleasant on the eyes, for one," the Rider said, giving the young Maker a disapproving look. He was smaller than the ones he had met in Tri-Stone, not growing a beard like the Eidard and Thane.  
But he just barked a laughter, not impressed by his insult, and answered: "I could say no less for you! I prefer my own name: Karn."  
"' _Pup_ ' it is then," Death sneered, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
Karn shrugged and smiled, his huge canines comically sticking out his huge mouth. "As you will, matters not to me."

 _Quite the blithe spirit,_ Death thought and raised an eyebrow under his mask, wondering why they had sent the youngest out here of all people.  
"Why not restore the fire yourself?" he asked, seeing Karn's ears drop at the question.  
He fidgeted with his brawny hands and hesitantly answered: "I came her just for that purpose - figured I'd pop the cork, so to speak, be the hero. But the Cauldron is locked up well and tight, and the way through swallowed by fire..."  
Turning his head to the entrance of the dungeon, he suddenly looked back at Death and his face lightened up. "You look capable enough! Perhaps you can find a way, I'll wait here and guard the entrance."

The Nephilim rolled his eyes and mumbled: "Fair enough," before he tensed his shoulders and stepped inside of the Cauldron.  
If it had been warm outside, the temperature inside of the hall was unbearably hot. Although the body of the Horseman was mostly immune to both cold and heat, he felt uncomfortable in his own skin and hurried to find his way through the maze.  
The young Maker Karn hadn't exaggerated with his warning - boiling streams of lava and corrupted constructs barred the way through the Dungeon, some doors locked by sickly glowing crystals of Corruption and others completely destroyed.  
A giant construct armed with huge giant maces attacked him, its senseless rage already a foretaste of what the hostile power was capable of.  
But no obstacle could last when a Rider of the Apocalypse was approaching, and soon Death managed to unlock what _actually_ appeared to be a big, iron cork, and with a deep, echoing rumble the Fire of the Mountain was set free again.  
Outside Karn was waiting as he had promised, all excited about the now steadily flowing stream of lava that undoubtedly led back to Tri-Stone.

"The mountain has a voice! How did you - no, no, it doesn't matter, you've done what we... what _I_ failed to do." He scratched his bald head, and Death sensed an unpleasant request coming.  
"Ah... now, do you mind restoring the Tears, too?" the young one asked sheepishly.  
The Nephilim gritted his teeth and boomed: "Yes, I mind! Aren't I doing enough already?!"  
Karn winced, evidently uneasy under his hot glare, but he said: "The Fire and the Tears were both gifts from the Stonefather. We require both for out Forge... I can show you the way to the Drenchfort!"

Waving dismissively, Death heaved a great sigh and finally answered: "Well then. Show me the way."

Thanks to his height, the Maker was quick on his feet but struggled to keep up with Despair's speed. Death soon decided to go by foot and waited for Karn who was panting heavily, his forehead glistening with sweat.  
They had hardly made it halfway back, and Karn began to use his newly gained breath to babble continuously about the things he found during his little scouting trips.  
"Explorin' is a wondrous thing, you never know what ya might find! Look at this one, for instance," he cheered, and showed a metal platter to the Nephilim who regarded it with unconcealed disgust.  
"A _dish_?! You found a dish?"  
Karn nodded and looked so utterly foolish that Death questioned his sanity.  
"Well, it has sentimental value. Not much to look at it, I know... But uh, t'was my journeyman piece, last thing I ever forged. I, er... misplaced it some years back. Found it the other day when I was out hunting for Phoebe."  
  
"Phoebe?" Death asked, the name somehow making his skin tingle uncomfortably. "Is that the human?"  
With one of his toothy smiles, the young Maker proudly lifted his chin and said: "Aye, Rider. You met her, then? She came to us many moons ago. I suppose you heard she's the only human who survived the Apocalypse, poor lass... But she's a sturdy thing, that's for sure."  
Death chuckled humorless, a dismissive smile contorting his mouth. "And your people chose _you_ to feed her like a puppy? Is that why you went out to conquer the Cauldron?"  
The tips of Karn's ears turned pink, and he shrugged noncommittally, avoiding his gaze. Ah, so there _was_ a sore spot after all. Death filed this information for later, satisfied that the Maker remained silent for the rest of their way.

Back in the valley the huge eye was watching them with even more wickedness, as if it had seen their efforts back at the Cauldron. Death wondered how they would be able to get rid of that problem, but he had to stay focused on the task at hand. The sooner he would restore the Forge, the sooner he would be able to get out of this mess.  
On the western end of the area another huge gate awaited them, Corruption spread thick on its surface.  
"What is this?" Death asked and gestured at the entrance.  
The Pup coughed and answered: "The Drenchfort lies just beyond this barrier, it was the first thing taken by Corruption. We sealed the Stonefather's Tears inside, fearing what would happen if they spread."

Death nodded, his words a mere whisper when he contemplated the yellow crystals that grew like a cancer on the stone. "If I do as Alya asks, you will soon find out."  
"Aye, and the realm will be better for it. Whether pure as rain or black as sin, the Tears will end this stalemate," Karn replied sternly, helping the Nephilim to destroy the stony gate.  
More deformed creatures lurked in the tunnel behind it, and both Death's scythes and Karn's warhammer made quick work of the Prowlers and Stingers. When the first branches of the Tears came in sight, the Maker offered to guard the entrance to the Drenchfort again, and the Pale Rider carried on alone.

The dark and humid maze bore different dangers than the Cauldron, not less deadly and treacherous than the ones before, and Death couldn't help but being slightly amazed by the wit of the Makers who once tried to protect the Tears with their puzzles and traps. But soon he could feel the presence of something foreign beneath the mossy stones, something that didn't belong here.  
It wasn't the brooding power of Corruption, but a more ancient being, he was sure. When he arrived at the very bottom of the dungeon, he swore savagely at the sight that unfolded: Karkinos, the giant Earth Spider had used the abandoned Drenchfort as a nest, and obviously wasn't very fond of visitors.  
It took Death several tries to attack her before her lifeless carcass finally dropped to the floor.

The foolish Makers better did good at keeping their word, or he would surely make them pay for his troubles...  
Having freed the Tears of the Mountain, Death went back up to meet an utterly delighted Karn, ready to go home and take the good news to his remaining kin.  
"Ha ha! You did it again, Rider! The Tears of the Mountain flow again. Now, let's get back to the others, shall we?"


	10. Chapter 10

_**The Cauldron was cold, but Death rekindled its fire.** _

_**The Drenchfort was dry, but the Horseman loosed its waters.** _

_**And then the Makers rejoced, for their Forge burned anew. From its fires they made a key, one which could awake stone.** _

* * *

Phoebe looked at the gates of Tri-Stone long after the Rider was gone. Something about his depart made her uneasy, but she couldn't put her finger on it.  
Thane muttered something under his breath and rolled the big stone that blocked the entrance back into its place, just in case some corrupted constructs would find their way through the flooded tunnel.  
The crunching sound made her snap back into the present, and now there wasn't much to do than wait. Waiting and hoping for Death to come back... maybe he would find Karn on his way.

Knowing that she would only bother the others with their tasks and thoughts right now, Phoebe made her way to the little nest she had made herself in an outcrop behind the tunnel. While she walked between the great statues of the ancient Makers, something glistening caught her eye. It turned out to be a large, black feather of the crow she just met, Death's companion. She picked it up and took it with her, musing over the stranger.  
So the Rider was trying to resurrect humanity - Phoebe still couldn't wrap her mind around it. How was this even possible? She knew by now that the other worlds held many secrets and mysteries, but what she had seen on Earth could not be undone... Yet Death seemed determined to save his brother.

The weight of that idea stirred different feelings inside of her: there was hope and excitement to finally get rid off Corruption and see more of this strange yet mesmerizing world, to learn more about the forces that had caused Earth to burn with demon fire. Maybe she would be able to go back? Would the resurrection of Mankind mean that everything was like before, that time would be turning back?  
And with that question came another emotion that gnawed at her guts. Phoebe wasn't sure if that was what she wanted. She had seen her former home shatter, the secrets of the universe had been revealed to her, and now she was supposed to go back as if nothing happened?

Lost in thought she walked to her shelter, lately she occupied it more often, at least for the last three days since Karn was gone.  
It was a small little cave that with a fireplace and a makeshift bed she had made out of piled up, worn-out Maker clothes. On a shelf carved into the stone were a few things she kept as valuables to her: the clothes and shoes she had worn on Earth, a dull sword she once had tried to forge, some interesting looking rocks Karn used to bring from his scouting trips and a talisman from Muria.

She placed the feather next to them and kicked off her boots, still feeling sore from her sparring with Thane.  
With a great sigh she crawled on her bed and watched the evening sun painting the sky.  
The orange burn of the sunset reminded her of the Horseman's glowing eyes inspecting her.

He clearly hadn't expected her, a human, to be here after all. And she wasn't sure how he had found his way to Tri-Stone in the first place. But when she had mentioned War something had shifted for a moment, as if the curtain of Death's remoteness had lifted. It had been gone so quickly that she wasn't sure if she had imagined it, but she could swear that he was relieved about her observation.  
She was still thinking about his reaction when she finally fell asleep, strange dreams haunting her in the lonely night.

The next morning she woke up to an unfamiliar smell in the air: the stench of fire and smoke made her sit up in alarm, the trauma of her last day on Earth now fresh in her memory.  
Without worrying about her shoes, she stood up and ran to the courtyard, yelling the names of the Makers.  
"Eidard? Thane? Where are you?" she called, panic getting the best of her.  
Before she could even notice that there was no sign of an attack or enemies, she heard Alya's rich voice: "Over here, human!"

She turned around and frowned when she saw thick, hot lava floating through the Forge, Alya waving frantically at her from the pavilion, the others gathered around her.  
Then she understood: Death had been successful! This must be the Fire of the Mountain, finally restored. The cobblestones were warm under her feet, the heat of the Forge emanating from the ground.  
Phoebe hurried to join the others who stood at the makeshift forge and marvelled at the stream of hot liquid that burned through the pipes.  
"Look at this Phoebe! Now you get to see a real forge fire!" Alya frolicked, and without further warning she wrapped her large hand around her and picked her up.

Phoebe's empty stomach protested, but the high spirits of her friend were contagious.  
She giggled, had she ever seen the Forge Sister so happy before? Even Eidard and Thane wore a smile, and also Muria had joined their little meeting. Valus seemed to be quite impatient to finally use the forge, but so far Death had only passed half of the way.  
"Oh, what a day! This is truly a feast!" Alya swirled around, and Phoebe grabbed fistfuls of her dress to hold on, feeling as if she was on a roller coaster.  
Thane rumbled: "For Stonefather's sake, Alya! Let that poor lass down, she turned all green."

The female Maker stopped and placed a large, sloppy kiss on Phoebe's face before she set her down again.  
She chuckled and wiped her face with the sleeve of her dress, and a little breathless she said: "So... he really made it, didn't he?" S turned around to find Eirdard looking at her.  
"I suppose you have questions, little one?" he asked, sizing her up and she nodded quietly.  
The Old One slowly bent down to offer her his palm, and although she still felt a little light-headed she stepped on it and made herself comfortable, knowing that he wouldn't spin her around like Alya.

He walked down the stairs and towards the bridge that connected the two gates of Tri-Stone, the morning sun heating up the crisp air. The last traces of fog still lingered between the large statues of the ancient Makers that guarded the gates, and Phoebe marveled at the sight for a moment.  
Her new home was truly beautiful in its own way, like an enchanted kingdom of a fairy tale she used to read when she was a child. But those days were long gone, and now there were more urgent things she needed to know.  
So she took a deep breath and reluctantly said: "So... do you have any idea how Death was able to come here? Did he use a portal like me?"

Eidard considered her question for a while before he answered: "I don't think he used a serpent hole, no. Only a very powerful creature could have sent him to us, that is for sure. If I had to guess, I would say that he had a rather unpleasant meeting with an ancient being who sent him here."  
Phoebe wondered who would sent this unexpected help to them, but in the end it didn't matter. He was here now and that was all that counted.  
"Hm, I always thought Death was looking like a skeleton, maybe dressed in a black robe or something," she mused, remembering when they had celebrated Halloween back on Earth and how people would disguise as the Reaper with skull masks and plastic scythes.

She could feel a rumble going through the chest of the Maker, and when she looked up to him she saw his eyes glistening with mirth as he laughed.  
"Despite his names and his demeanor, he is not the equivalent for death itself, you know," he explained carefully.  
Phoebe blinked with confusion, thinking about what Eidard had said. It made sense, of course: just as War was a person and not war in the sense of the word, so was his brother Death.  
"Well, I thought he was like... the literal death, you know?" she said quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed by her ignorance.  
But Eidard only nodded knowingly and explained: "I see. Humans have developed certain beliefs and myths of how the world was built and in which ways it worked. Quite stunning if one considers the strong efforts of the other Kingdoms to keep their existence concealed. But then again, it does not surprise me that much if I take you as an example for human wit."  
The Maker smirked under his beard, and Phoebe chuckled at the sight. "However, the Horseman earned his title by his actions. After he chose to slay his brethren in order to keep the balance, he was given this name. I cannot say if he had any name before that, but I suppose it was forgotten ever since then."

Phoebe wondered how strange it was that names could define those given to, and how Death's fate would have turned out if he hadn't decided to kill his brothers and sisters to save humanity. Somehow she could understand that he acted to coldhearted and aloof - it was a heavy burden he had to carry, everything he did was for a greater good. Of course that didn't excuse his demeanor and insults, the Makers deserved his respect after all. But Phoebe thought it must be hard to keep up a smiling face when the weight of the world was pressing on you. Maybe it was because humans had a relatively short life compared to the other beings that they were often acting selfish and reckless...

"We all must make sacrifices to fulfill our purpose," Eidard mused as if he could read her mind, and when Phoebe looked up to him she saw his eyes wandering over Tri-Stone, a melancholic expression on his face. But before she could ask if he was alright, he blinked and a warm smile appeared on his face again "Come, I sense our young one is soon to be on his way home. You might help Alya and Valus carrying their materials to the Forge."  
Of course she could do only little due to her size to help, but she enjoyed the company of the others who were in a bright mood. She had never seen them so excited, even Valus was humming a simple melody under his helmet.

The halls of the abandoned Forge were now alight, and Phoebe could easily imagine what great weapons had been forged in here many eons ago.  
Alya continuously babbled about what they would create first, after they finished the Maker's key of course, and yes even Phoebe would get a new warhammer. It was wonderful to feel hope in those dark times again, the shadows of Corruption forgotten for once.

The hours passed, and Phoebe was dozing in the afternoon heat when she suddenly heard a strange noise roaring in the distance. Highly alarmed she jumped to her feet and looked at the walls of the forge. With a mighty blow a rush of water flooded the pipes, and behind the gates she could hear Alya cheer.  
The Tears of the Mountain flowed again, and now the Forge was finally restored.  
Without further thinking she ran to Thane who was watching the scene with a content smile on his face.  
"They made it! Oh, Thane please open up the gate, I want to greet Karn first," she pleaded, and the Maker rolled his eyes but gave in to her wish.

"But stay on guard! Ye never know what you might find," he called after her, but Phoebe hardly listened and made her way through the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little explanation: I never thought of Death from Darksiders as THE Death, the one who comes and takes your soul when you die. That's why I wanted to clearify this in my story, just FYI.


End file.
